


Friday Special Comes With Something Sweet

by deathbyhumidity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ben Needs A Kick In The Ass, Ben has lots of thoughts, Completely Fictional Setting, F/M, Frustrated Virgin Energy, Premium V-Card Holder, Rey Needs A Hug, and even more feelins, slowish burn, small town vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 92,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbyhumidity/pseuds/deathbyhumidity
Summary: Being Chewie’s kitchen assistant at his dad’s diner wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to Ben Solo after he went back home from university with his tail between his legs, but in typical spectacular fashion, he managed to ruin the peace with his runaway mouth just three weeks in. Really, he should have remembered there was a good reason Han kept him out back, but at least now the memory of wide, wet eyes spitting fireballs at him made sure that he won’t likely forget again anytime soon.





	1. Chapter 1

*******

Ben Solo would not have willingly dug up the sense memory just two months ago, surrounded as he had been then by Far More Important Things, but right now, it was deeply satisfying to see the chunks of garlic get smaller and smaller under the knife in his hand. Even though he’d never gotten particularly good at any of it before he left almost four years ago, it hadn’t taken long to reacquire the rhythm, and the heavy metal thudding against the wooden chopping board was like encouraging applause.

 _Just keep hacking away at it, and even if the bits start out all awkward and different, they’d even out in the end, minced to perfect indistinguishability._ There was a life lesson in there somewhere, he was sure.

“You done with that?” Chewie’s voice rose over the sound of the griddle sizzling to his left.

“Just about.” A few more thwacks, and then he deftly scooped the minced garlic onto a plastic plate and placed it next to Chewie. He’d already moved on to chopping some spring onion when the garlic started hissing as it made contact with the oil and thickened the aroma that already lingered in the small space.

In the three weeks he’d been working here again, he was sure his pores had permanently taken on the smell of the aromatics and grill smoke. The place smelled wonderful if you were hungry, but _eau de diner_ was not something that would fly off shelves. Not that he had anyone he didn’t want to risk driving away, anyway.

Work at the diner was not unfamiliar to him. He’d done a fair bit of it when he was a teen, especially over the longer school breaks. Over the years, he’d graduated from being general kitchen gofer to dishwasher to helping with the simpler prep and grill work. It grated so much more at the time, but now the reasons were entirely different. Back then, he’d hated being barked at in chorus by Uncle Chewie and his dad, and he’d hated even more being cooped up in here. The call of the lake, in all its placid grey, wide-open glory, was a torturous siren song for his soul. In his itchiest days, he used to sneak out, and the blissful hours of quiet—no annoying nagging, no piano pounding away—in the battered boat he’d bought from old Artoo with money he’d saved up for months was worth a few flecks of Han’s spittle on his face and being grounded for a week.

Thankfully his current hours allowed him to spend his mornings and early afternoons rowing away as much as he wanted. Artoo had kept the boat for him, and as long as he came in by three-thirty, there was no reason for Han to get pissy. Not anywhere near what he’d been in February over that… thing, and his dad’s rage had been well-deserved.

It was unfortunate that he no longer had the luxury of claiming teenage rebellion. Sure, he can still stick it to Han, but he was trying to keep his head down. Trying to stay in his parents’ good graces, for once.

Right now, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He wasn’t going to complain about his current situation, sleeping in the room above the diner. After dragging his own sorry ass back home from university, this was vastly preferable over staying at the house he grew up in, right next door, even though his old room was far better furnished. For one thing, that room was a proper bedroom—it couldn’t have been anything else for the son of one Leia Skywalker—and not the sad repository of his dad’s dead dreams, in crates and boxes that Ben had tried hard to put in some semblance of order that very first night he came back. A vigorous cleaning of the place burned away the energy that he’d otherwise have wasted on bawling, and even though there had been the stray tear or two, by dawn, he’d been too tired to dwell much more on just how much he’d fucked up.

At least his dad had had dreams. Here he was, in the full bloom of youth, already tired down to his black marrow. And he hadn’t been as lucky about dodging the memories after that first night back, the words and the sensations ghosts that tormented him to exhaustion.

He found it ironic that so far, this seemed to be the high point of his short adulthood. Resignation brought its own sense of peace, after all. Here in this small, warm kitchen, he only had to share the space with Chewie— _Uncle_ Chewie until right before he left for college, when the one man in town who he never outgrew told him that he’d stop calling him _Benny_ if he dropped the _Uncle_ , because it was just weird now that he was a man himself, and Ben’s chest had swelled with unfamiliar pride and affection at the time. Chewie’s rambling was the kind that didn’t require too much mental processing, and most times, not even a response.

His dad was another thing entirely, especially since one of Han’s favorite things to do was to try to get a rise out of him. It was a good thing he was out front, and the vast majority of their communication was just Han hollering orders through the service window between the kitchen and the dining area.

He could hear his dad chatting with the customers. He was glad that wasn’t his job here, and he was sure Han was, too. It wasn’t any kind of secret that Ben could drive away even the hungriest customer with his stellar disposition and his runaway bluntness.  

Not that they were in any great danger of losing business. Ben wouldn’t begrudge the fact that Han’s customers were pretty loyal.

Situated as it was on one of the busier streets in a quiet residential area, a lot of the tiny diner’s customers were people—usually older guys who got off on the bus stop on the next block—who came in alone, dropping by for something warm and fast on their way home from work, where a lot of them didn’t have anyone waiting for them. If the diner had been on the other side of town, closer to the local college, it might have been better for business, and they might have more of the younger folks coming in. It was a relief to Ben that that wasn’t the case, though. He would have just loved seeing his old schoolmates on a regular basis. Especially now. There was a reason he went all the way to the city for college, after all.

The place wasn’t exactly pretty, and Ben suspected that it might have looked modern maybe years before he was born. But its paneled wood walls painted white, the L-shaped bar counter with the shine long forgotten by its pewter surface, the eight bolted-in stools with low backrests the color of mustard, the dark baseboards and flooring—the thing as a whole had its own faded charm, Ben supposed.

As far as décor went, the only thing that anyone could maybe very generously describe as art was the sign outside. His mom had long despaired over the creaky thing that jutted out from the front of the building. It was one strong blast of wind away from decapitating a passerby. Like the rest of the diner, it might have looked cool once, but in Ben’s eyes, it had always been too big, too bold, too painfully visible. Which was exactly how Han wanted it, of course. The painted white bird, sculpted in full profile on a slab of wood, had its wings spread wide, fire shooting out of its tail, its one visible eye a fierce twinkle. Under this illustration, in a font that Ben guessed was meant to express movement, were the words _Millennium Falcon_.

A ridiculous mouthful for an insignificant diner, and as to why his dad never renamed the place, Ben figured it was just another one of those things from the past Han couldn’t let go of. There was a story there, of course. There always was with Han.

A few times in the past, Leia managed to convince Han to put small potted plants on the counter corners, but if Han didn’t knock them off accidentally as he set down orders, they died anyway because—to no one’s surprise—he always forgot to water them. Leia never tried too hard to have a say when it came to the diner, although Ben knew she could have a _lot_ to say. In every other aspect of their lives, Leia was queen, but the Falcon was Han’s sacred space.

Like most diners of its size, the place had no front wall and instead opened right up to the sidewalk, which was yet another reason Ben tried to never be out front with his dad. Han would call out to his acquaintances as they passed, and they always stopped for a short chat. Years ago, he’d flick his thumb in Ben’s direction and say things like, “You know my boy, Ben? He’s trying out for the school’s basketball team—” even though in reality, Ben was forced by his gym teacher only because of his size, and it didn’t have anything to do with his talent or his interest—or the lack thereof on both counts, and the results spoke of it clearly. His face would burn and he’d duck into the kitchen, too embarrassed to hear any more of his dad’s misplaced bragging.

And Han, with his power of gab, a lot of times very smoothly had them ordering something—a bottle of Tico’s, a stick of fried sweet potato wedges—even though they'd profess to not have the time to eat on their way to wherever. He always remembered which thing was whoever’s favorite, and they all knew that more than Chewie’s great cooking, Han’s charm was what sold those bowls.

In the past, there were times when people he knew from school would walk by, and if they weren’t whispering among themselves as they saw Big Ben with his Big Ears and his Big Nose—gods, those stupid red bandanas Han insisted he wore to keep his hair back didn’t help—they were trying to chat him up. He didn’t know which was worse, honestly.

At closing time every night at eleven, he helped his dad pull down the two wide metal shutters. Those rare times it got too cold, they kept the shutters down, and the customers who came for Han’s mulled Tico’s came in through a side door. There was always a warm welcome for anyone at the Millennium Falcon.

No, it wasn’t a bad thing at all, being here. There were worse places he could have ended up. _Far worse._

The knife stilled in his hand. He didn’t want to think about any of that yet again, and so he willed back the sour ball that tried to roll up from his gut.

An urgent tapping snapped him out of his reverie.

“Where’s that braised pork?” Han’s voice held a note of impatience.

He looked to where Chewie was sliding a jiggly egg he’d just fried over a heaping bowl of rice, meat and vegetables. His eyes narrowed.

This was _that_ “add extra” Friday bowl. Upgraded to that new combo thing that started out just today. A _Friday_.

“On its way.”

He grabbed the bowl at Chewie’s grunt, sprinkled the spring onion liberally over it, and scowled at it as he handed it to Han. And then he scowled at Han.

“What?” His dad’s face mirrored his own.

“Don’t think I don’t know,” he muttered, only loud enough for Han to hear.

“Only fools think they know everything, kid.” His dad clicked his tongue as he stepped away.

But that was exactly what Ben wasn’t. He had his suspicions about why his dad came up with this combo thing so suddenly, when all these years his gospel had always been, “If you don’t change anything, folks will find what they want and stick with it”—and _who_ it was for.

Two Fridays ago, his dad asked him through the window to tell Chewie to add extra to a bowl some customer ordered. That was already unusual in itself, but his dad’s command, given in a voice that made clear to Ben that he was trying not to be overheard, piqued his curiosity. But before he could ask Han what that was about, he’d already stalked off.

When it happened again the following Friday—last week—at almost the exact same time and with Han just as evasive, Ben bent down and peered out the window, and saw Han chatting with some young woman as he handed her the bowl. She looked familiar, and he was certain he’d seen her somewhere a long time ago. He washed tomatoes distractedly over the next few minutes as he tried to place just where he knew the girl from.

When it came to him, he felt his lip curl automatically in disdain. If his memory served him right, she was one of those girls who were always around Poe Dameron, that smug ass from high school. Dameron had been in the same grade as him, and he always lugged around a guitar for the express purpose, Ben was sure, of keeping his horde of hormonal female admirers hot for him. That, and the guy fancied himself as some kind of rebel leader. Him and his crew of misfit hangers-on—they called themselves the _Resistance_ , the pretentious idiots—if he hadn’t been such a smooth talker, he would have been expelled from school from the stunts he pulled, from mooning the new mayor at that parade to all the generic tryhard shit with the spray paint.

_The goddamned spray paint._

He didn’t know the girl’s name, but he was sure she was a few grades behind him. He remembered how at the time, he thought she was weird for a Dameron groupie. She stood out exactly because she wasn’t trying to call attention to herself, unlike most of the girls who threw themselves at the guy. Looked so serious and detached, even, always in hoodies a few sizes too big for her and scuffed sneakers. Maybe she was one of those Resistance clowns instead of an admirer, after all. Who knew? Who cared?

The few seconds he had his eyes on her at the diner were enough to show him that even now, she looked just as barefaced as she did back then. Kinda cute, but the Dameron crap had him sighing and shaking his head.

And then three days ago, after the last customer left, Han told him he could go on ahead, and he and Chewie would finish closing up. He was instantly on guard, but he wasn’t going to say no to getting off his feet earlier than usual. As he hung his apron on its hook by the back door and wiped his forehead with his bandana, Han and Chewie barely glanced at him, already whispering between themselves. Whatever.

And just this morning, he was woken up by Han’s knocking at the ungodly hour of seven-thirty. A bunch of rolled up poster papers were unceremoniously dumped into his arms, along with a plastic bag full of colored pens. All the neon hurt his barely-open eyes, and the only thing he could do was stare stupidly as Han instructed him to make a sign for the new special.

He listened as Han explained to him: veggie sides and a drink to go with the rice bowls, and the customer’s choice between sweet potato skewers or a square of cinnamon bread pudding. Last he checked, they only used carrots as a garnish—and only when Chewie felt like it—and the customers had been more than happy to pay separately for the sweet stuff. More importantly—

“The hell, Dad… why are you telling me this just now?”

The way Han looked at his forehead instead of his eyes didn’t go past him.

“Look, kid, you get a great idea, you just go for it right there. Didn’t I always tell you that?”

He looked skyward and sighed.

Han continued, “So just… do what you can, and we’ll put it up before tonight. Chewie'll fill you in before we open.”

“Does Mom know about this?”

“She’s the one who suggested the veggie stir fry.”

It figured.

Ben tried going back to sleep after Han hurried down the stairs—totally not obvious—but it was impossible. What was up with all the secrecy? Didn’t his opinion matter at all? They could have waited till next week so they could properly discuss it on Sunday, when the place was closed. It was Friday already. Why put this out so late in the week?

_Friday._

He sat straight up when he realized the possible significance of the day. Could it really be?

Even now, as he looked out at Han chatting with her on and off, he wondered. What the hell was this? Why did this chick have Han wrapped around her little finger? He squinted his eyes, trying to determine if they were flirting. The fuck was wrong with Han?

He almost smacked his face on the edge of the window when Han did an about-face and walked to him.

“One banana pie. And I think I saw chocolate syrup in the fridge… do we have it?”

None of the Falcon’s items required the use of chocolate syrup. Even though Han _did_ see that bottle, it was _his_ , a thing he got used to having with toast in college.

“What do you need the syrup for?”

“Just… make the pie look nice. I don’t know, just a drizzle. Just make it real pretty.”

The only other customers right now were Mr. Nunb, an accountant who Ben knew to have diabetes and only ever ordered the grilled porg without the rice, and another old gentleman he didn’t recognize, but didn’t look to be the type to indulge in rich banana pie, to speak nothing of chocolate syrup.

So even this was for Miss Friday, who already got her sweet potato skewer as part of that stupid thing. Oh, she was good.

“One pretty pie coming up,” was all he said to Han through the tightness of his jaw.

He was tempted to draw a dick, he really was—and being Dameron’s friend, maybe she’d love the callback. But he wasn’t going to let her know he was still peeved over that, and so he just carelessly zigzagged a few lines over the soft yellow fruit and the thick cream. With _his_ syrup.

Han was waiting by the window, but he went past it and headed straight for the swinging door instead. He could feel Han’s eyes following him as he stalked over to where Miss Friday sat, could hear him trying to say something.

He laid the plate down next to all the stuff already in front of her, and he could see that she was done with her bowl—not a single grain of rice left—now well on her way through her sweet skewer. She paused mid-chew and looked up at him, brows lifting, eyes guarded but not unfriendly. He’d never been this close to her, and even with annoyance simmering in his veins, he couldn’t help but notice how long and how dark her eyelashes were. He thought the wisps of hair that framed her face bounced a little as she nodded her head at him the tiniest bit, which he took to mean that maybe she remembered him, too.

“Rey, you know my son, Ben?” Han had sidled next to him, gruff charm switched back on. “You went to school wi—”

“Yeah, she knows me.”

Rey—so that was her name—pinched her lips together in a smile, small in its uncertainty but enough to make her dimples appear for a split-second, even with her cheeks bulging.

“Did—did you make this?” she said around the food in her mouth.

“I cook here, don’t I?” He wasn’t going to tell her that he only chopped the vegetables for the side and stirred the pork in its sauce as instructed when Chewie went upstairs to use the bathroom, because that wasn’t the point.

“It’s really good.” She gave him another tight smile. Was she trying to flatter _him_ too?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Must be. You’ve shoveled down even more than the usual.”

She froze, her eyes round and her lips twitching in disbelief.

“Ben—” his dad began.

He continued while he had her. “Maybe next Friday we’ll serve it in a bucket. Or is trough more your size?”

She choked and started coughing, bits of sweet potato flying out of her mouth before she could cover it. He graciously slid her glass of root beer closer to her and watched as her face reddened. She gulped the drink down, and in the flurry, some of the dark liquid spilled on her khaki jacket. She gave it a frantic swipe or two, and then she was reaching for something in her bag—

Han’s fingers bit into his arm, and he was yanked backwards. Shaken hard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” The growl was accompanied by a thunderous look he’d seen too many times in his life.

The rest of the diners were now looking on as well. Rey’s shaking hand dropped some bills on the table. Her eyes were bright with anger and… a sheen of something else that gave him pause.

And then in a tight voice as she slung her bag over her shoulder— “They weren’t wrong about you, after all.”

Well.

“Sorry, Han, this isn’t worth it.”

She jumped onto a bicycle that sat on the sidewalk and shot him one last nasty look. A part of him knew that he would regret this later, but as Rey zoomed away, standing on the pedals to pump at them faster, the devil in him made him yell out—

“Get rid of that hideous jacket and wear something cuter next time. Han goes for bombshells. I mean have you seen my mom?”

“Rey—Rey! Come back, wait—” Han leaned over the counter as he shouted at her diminishing form. And then the night swallowed her up completely.

Something hard hit Ben’s shin and he almost fell over. His dad actually _kicked_ him.

And then a rough hand grabbed the scruff of his shirt, and he was being dragged into the kitchen. He barely noticed the door smacking hard against him as they went through, too angry, too charged up about the whole thing.

His dad was running his hand over his face, clawing at his own jaw and leaving red marks under the grey bristle. Farther back, Chewie’s brows met in the middle, and he was shaking his head.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you, Ben, but you better start explaining!”

Han had the nerve to put this on him when he’d been flirting so openly for anybody to see. Ben’s head felt like it was on fire, the heat of it frying his nerves and having him curl his hands into fists at his sides.

“Did you like that, Dad? Like having someone young and pretty to chat with, for a change?”

“Oh, Ben, that’s not—” Chewie started.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Han’s hands punched the air in emphasis of his words. “Do you really think I’d try to start something with someone—someone who could be my daughter? Whills’ will, Ben, she’s your age!”

“Then what was that about, huh? If it’s not you, then it’s her—you’re letting her game you for fucking _food?_ ”

If Han grit his teeth any harder, Ben was sure he’d see them fall out.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What was that—that thing with the pie? Since when did we serve pie with chocolate syrup?”

“It was her birthday two days ago, you asshat!”

Oh.

His dad didn’t seem to care that they had an audience who could hear—and see through the service window—and his roar echoed in the small space, and probably right out into the street.

“You could have asked! You could have done anything but _that!_ ”

Uncertainty was starting to creep in. His eyes dropped to the floor, and he tried swallowing the lump in his throat. Maybe he was wrong. It seemed like he was wrong. Even Chewie looked at him like he was very, very wrong. He didn’t understand. But…

“Why were going around like—like it was some kind of secret?”

“Because it was none of your business! Rey—she comes in here when she gets her paycheck for something ‘nice.’ Do you understand? I didn’t tell you because you don’t—because it’s not in you to care for stuff like this.”

That stung. If they’d told him, he’d have… he’d have…

He’d probably have said something nasty because he didn’t really care much about someone who went around with Dameron. And maybe his dad would have been just as mad.

But he was used to bearing his father’s anger, and maybe they could have kept it between themselves and not… not…

She didn’t get to eat her pie, and she didn’t get her change.

_It was her birthday._

This was what happened. This was what always happened.

His dad’s voice was low. Tired.

“Get out. I don’t want to see you again tonight.”

He didn’t want to see himself tonight, either. He didn’t want to be himself tonight. Like so many other nights.

He left.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The setting is not particular to any culture or location—food, norms, architecture, holidays, etc.—but is still hopefully relatable. The rating is for later chapters. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> Also, here's some pencil art. 
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

*******

If there was one thing in the world that Ben could openly and unreservedly say that he loved, it was the lake. On a spring day like this, with the breeze carving shallow mirror cups on the water to trick the sunlight into staying on the surface, the beauty of it all made his heart ache. Even the trees seemed like captive spectators, standing all around it and whispering among themselves. Off in the distance, the houses and the shops were nothing more than spots of color in the sloping landscape, so much like the flowers that dotted patches of the green shore.

When he was younger, it took him a good thirty minutes to get to Artoo’s dock on his bike, and even then he’d felt the hilly ride was well worth it. Nowadays, it was much faster in his car, and even though he didn’t go every single day, his anticipation was all the more potent for it.

He wondered if he should get a proper sculling shell. His old boat had been a loyal companion to him for a long time, but it wasn’t built for speed. And he’d gotten a taste for just that in the last few years.

One thing university hadn’t spoiled for him was rowing. In fact, he’d fallen more in love with it there. He rather missed the team, even. Or being on it, more precisely, and not necessarily his teammates. They were okay people, he supposed, but he’d never had any great love for them. He couldn’t even really call them friends.

He missed the purpose. Bodies and minds united on a goal. It had been one of the few times in his life where working with other people—with passion and effort equal to his own—bore beautiful results. Where he didn’t have to try to be anything he wasn’t because it didn’t matter when it came to doing what needed to be done. Where he could channel all his energy into this one thing and just lose himself to the speed and the rhythm. Where he didn’t have to question the commands.

There was none of that anymore, but there was always the lake.

The lake had always waited for him. There was only the water, the sun, the wind and him and his boat. No might-have-beens, should-have-beens. No hope, no despair. No fear, no anxiety. Here, it was easy to forget the past and not worry about the future.

Not that his brain didn’t try. Since he came home, too many thoughts crowded his head. But these days, one in particular was very persistent, and the closer it got to three o’clock, the harder it was to banish. Soon it would be time for work again, time for his dad to shoot daggers at him with his eyes at every possible opportunity.

 _She_ didn’t come to the Falcon yesterday for her Friday bowl. Damn her.

Sure, he could have kept his mouth shut last week. Could have looked some more first before jumping. It was something he kept forgetting, and he suspected the rest of his life was going to be just him relearning this painful lesson over and over again. Hopefully it wouldn’t be what actually killed him. Or anyone else.

Just like that fateful day, he was woken up early—can you even call it waking up, if you just hovered over that line between sleep and wakefulness all night, the whole ordeal a yellow-tinged nightmare?—last Saturday by a knock on his door, but it had been soft this time, because of course, it was his mom.

She sat next to him on his bed, and in his dim room, with the curtains pulled closed and the lights off, she was like a warrior goddess come down to the mortal world in her sharp outfit and her cloud of perfume. Leia Skywalker Solo, professor of music and director of the town’s cultural center, was feared and loved in equal measure by her students and her colleagues. But here, she was just Mom.

Just Mom, who was always gentle with him—too gentle, especially next to Han’s mouthiness. Leia always treated him too delicately, when she was capable of decimating just about anyone with her sharp tongue if she felt they deserved it. Like she was afraid of overwhelming him, of pushing him to his easy limits. He was aware that she wasn’t like this with everybody else. He was also aware that it probably had a lot to do with how his grandfather had been like, and eventually, his uncle, musical geniuses like herself whose relationships with their talent slowly led them into isolation.

He resented it, resented how she thought he was fragile. He _wasn’t_.

She’d listened to his version of things and _oh-Benned_ him, just as he’d predicted. But what he couldn’t have predicted was her telling him that the whole Friday special thing was something she and Han had come up with together. And when he asked what… _that person_ had to do with it, all she’d said was, “It makes your father happy when the Falcon makes other people happy, sweetie. And some people… they need it more than others. It’s not such a big thing, is it?”

Besides, she’d added, it was a change that was long due. It just so happened that there was finally a good reason to make it happen.

Most of the resentment drained out after his mom left, and what remained was a miserable remorse. Sorries had never been a thing in this family, and it was impossible to say it now.

He carried the feeling with him through work that night. In some ways, it was worse than the yelling, how his dad refused to speak about it. Or to him, in general. The food orders were given with his mouth barely moving, like he couldn’t bear to waste words or breath on him. It hadn’t been like this in February, and through another sleepless night, he wondered why, because that had been some world-ending shit back then.

 _Her_ eyes, angry and accusing, looked back at him those long hours. What was that she’d said? _They weren’t wrong about you, after all._ Like she’d expected otherwise.

Like she’d been disappointed.

What was it she knew about him? Who were _they_? If she’d meant Dameron, there were no surprises there. Neither of them had tried to hide their dislike of each other, and that ass certainly had nothing good to say about him. So what had he just proven wrong to her that she could be _disappointed_?

Maybe this thing with Han… maybe his silence was that, too. Bitter disappointment past surface anger.

In the past, Han would lay it on him, but those few times the school requested his presence for Ben’s shit, he was always quick to defend him. _Yes, Mr. Principal, sir,_ _Ben was wrong for what he did, but those other kids were assholes for pushing him into it._ And he’d huff and he’d puff as he held Ben’s hand all the way home.

But now, there were no other kids being assholes.

Just him.

And this time, it had been _her_ hand Han held. It had been her he’d come in defense of. Rightly so.

From how angry Han had been and how careful Leia was with her words, he understood just how important this had been to her. A good place she’d looked forward to coming back to every week. And here he was, barely a month back, and he’d driven her away with his stupid assumptions.

The solution was staring him in the face, but it was too hard to look at.

The words were already a mountain, and he knew, with how much he’d messed up, words wouldn’t be enough.

Han’s silent treatment went on through Sunday dinner at the main house. Leia tried to keep some conversation going, and she mostly succeeded, even though it was really just her talking to Han or her talking to Ben. It continued for the rest of the week, and through it, the prospect of seeing _her_ again filled him with dread.

Half of the time, he resolved to say something to her—just what he’d say, he’d think of when the moment came, he told himself—and the other half he swore he’d stay in the kitchen forever so she wouldn’t have to see his pathetic mug. And then the _other_ other half, he went back to resenting her because all this was turning him into an even more anxious, insomniac mess.

And yesterday, when closing time came and went with no sign of her, Han finally broke his silence.

“I hope you’re happy with what you did.”

Which of course, he wasn’t, and they all knew it. And this non-happy state which had been plaguing him was exactly what he was trying to forget for a few hours here.

And so he reminded himself—

Water. Motion. The push and pull of muscles. The boat an extension of his body. All thought flowing out of the mind into arms, into oars and into the water, where they dissolved into insignificance. And for blissful minutes, it worked. Nothing else mattered right then.

Not even that shouting in the distance, off to his left, coming closer and closer from behind him. There was a dock there, he knew, one that he sometimes tied his boat to and took a nap on when he felt like it.

The shouting sounded frantic, and a part of him was annoyed that his hard-won tranquility was broken. But he had to look. Maybe they needed help.

And of course, of all people, it had to be _her_. He wasn’t much of a believer, but this was seriously making him think that the gods were just plain shitting on him right now. Just like that, the tiny bit of peace he’d stocked up was flattened under the ginormous ass of instant dread.

There was also a dog. In the water. Hard to miss, that yellow thing that looked like it was having the time of its life paddling around.

But she didn’t seem to agree with his assessment, and as he watched, she cried out, “Dammit, Beebee, don’t—don’t move! I’m coming in!” She tossed something from her hand which bounced a few times on the dock, and then after a few fortifying huffs with her fists on her sides and a little run, she jumped right in, oversized jacket and boots and messy hair and all, with a horrible splash that looked like it could have stripped her skin right off, if she hadn't been so covered up, from how much of her slapped against the water.

Her head bobbed in and out a few times, to his horror, and in one of those above-surface instances, her eyes managed to land on him, and it seemed she’d recognized him, because for one infinitesimal moment the terror on her face was replaced by outrage, and then she was gone again. This time for longer. The water there wasn’t particularly deep, he knew, but then she was maybe a full head shorter than him, and more importantly, it looked like—

Whill’s will. The girl couldn’t swim.

This panic, so different from the usual “What did I just do?” kind, was an unfamiliar terror, and it made his heart pound and his blood run hot and cold. What was worse, when he looked around, there was no one else. It was up to him, and him alone, to deal with this. To fucking _save_ her.

He had a really bad feeling about this. The absolute worst, in fact.

His muscles strained as he rowed to where her head came in and out of the water, the sight of it he was sure would feed his nightmares for days to come. It was even harder to listen to her gasp and gurgle every few seconds.

“Hey—hey! I’m almost there! Hang on—”

There was no time to process how cold the water was, or just who he was saying _pleasepleaseplease_ to in his mind as he went under. For the first time in a very long time, the water was an absolute horror as it wrapped around him. A thing of death.

His hand closed around her wrist after a few tries. There was strength in there as she flailed, but that meant nothing. Water didn’t care about strength—all that struggle just went right through it. And the more she panicked, the easier it dragged her down.

He managed to pull her up to the surface, and instantly all her limbs were around him, holding on, quite literally, for dear life. This made it harder for him to keep them both afloat, and he found himself saying things that wouldn’t normally come out of his mouth.

“Shh, shh… you’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

She was coughing against his neck, and none of his words seemed to penetrate through her panic. He winced as her boot smacked against his kneecap and his shin, and he was sure her nails would leave marks where they dug into his neck. He tried to pat her back with the hand he had on her, but her hold didn’t slacken. And when he leaned back a little to look at her face, with her hair plastered all over it, her eyes were once again round and wet.

But she surprised him with the first words out of her mouth.

“Beebee—the dog—you’ve got to get him—please, Solo—”

Those eyes were full of pleading.

Off to the side, the blasted canine looked like it was smiling.

Damn fool girl.

“Shh, look—look! He’s okay. Your dog can swim. He’s really okay.”

She did look, first at the dog, and then back again at him, and he watched as her face morphed from distress to the realization that all this was for a miserable mutt that can _swim_ —that was, in fact, quite oblivious to her almost-drowning in how much it was enjoying itself. A wheeze, and a sob, followed by a few more, and it seemed like finally, she believed him.

“Stupid dog! Bad dog!” escaped through her angry hiccups.

And if it had been any other time and any other place, Ben would have died out of the sheer shock of finding his arms full of _girl_.

After the scare washed away, his mind zeroed in on the strange sensations. Even as he struggled to keep them both afloat with one arm and his legs, time did that funny thing where everything seemed to move so… slow. In the mid-April waters made colder by his terror, she was just… so warm as her shaking limbs pressed against him. The sound of the lake lapping around them was amplified in this moment of crystal clarity, her sniffles echoing against the surface of the water next to his ear and inside his skull. The early afternoon sunlight made jewels out of the droplets that clung to her dark hair, which was pretty much all that he could see of her from this angle.

The dog’s gleeful yipping snapped him out of it.

The whole weird moment took no more than a few seconds, he was sure, but he could feel his face darkening at the feelings it brought on. The girl almost drowned, and here he was, thinking of how _nice_ she felt in his arms. _Pathetic, Solo._ What the fuck was wrong with him?

“We should probably—you need to relax so we can—”

She finally loosened her grip a little. He couldn’t meet her eyes, and she seemed equally determined to keep her gaze away. There was no way he was getting her up that dock, and so they made their way to shore. When their feet touched the bottom of the lake, she fully disentangled herself from him, and even though he held his hand out to her—just in case—she stumbled forward without looking at him. Her attention, it seemed, was focused solely on the dog, and she clucked at it, alternately worrying and threatening.

When they got to dry land, she threw her arms around the waterlogged animal. She tried to squeeze the water off of it with her hands with little success. All through it, and as the dog shook itself, she was muttering through her clattering teeth.

“Bad dog. Very bad dog. Why’d you have to jump in, huh? You know I can’t swim. That wasn’t part of our agreement. Oh, Finn’s gonna kill me, you know? And then Poe’s gonna kill both of us. Very bad, Beebee.”

 _Poe._ Just the sound of that name made him grit his teeth. He forced himself to focus.

“Where’s your bike? How’d you even get here with your dog?”

She was hugging the damn mutt for warmth, it seemed, and she had her eyes closed. The thing looked far too happy with the attention.

“He isn’t my dog, he’s—he’s—well. I’m just dog sitting. My friend drove us here. He’s picking us up at a little after four.”

In the distance, his boat was drifting away. He’d have to swim out again to get it. Great.

His afternoon had gone to shit. He came here to not think, to lose himself in the quiet. Not to be reminded of how much of an asshole he’d been to this girl. He was so aware of how she was barely acknowledging him. She probably hated his guts. Fuck. He didn’t know what to say to her.

He really didn’t need any of this right now.

Another thing he didn’t need right now was the memory of his dad’s words. _You don’t have it in you to care…_

And so he found himself gulping down his own lake of saliva and asking, “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?” She looked okay. But who knew, under that jacket she didn’t bother to take off?

“I’m fine now. Thank you.” There was an unmistakable coolness in her delivery, and he suspected, maybe even resentment. A split-second of a glance at him, and then her eyes were on the lake. “For helping me out there. I… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

He didn’t even want to think about that. Shit. If he hadn’t gotten to her in time…

He ran his hand over his face. Swept his hair out of it. He probably looked like a total dork. He could feel his ears reddening, becoming brighter beacons than they probably already were. At least she wasn’t looking at him.

“Look,” his mouth was saying again. “It’s not even three yet. I have my car somewhere else. I mean I could take you home right now. Just—I need to get the boat, and then you can jump in, and then we can—you know—”

He’d never had anyone on the boat with him before. The mental image had his heart skipping a beat, which was absolutely ridiculous. His face was burning at having to say it.

For some reason, her eyes narrowed at him. “I’m not getting on that thing. With you.”

She just had to add that last bit. And maybe he deserved it after that unfortunate Friday, but he’d just _saved_ her, and that rankled.

“Fine,” exploded out of him, more forcefully that he wanted. “Just wait here, and I’ll get my car.”

He stomped off and waded back into the water. The light breeze now felt positively frigid, and if he was feeling the bite, it must be degrees worse for her. She needed to get out of those wet clothes fast. And he needed to get his mind out of the gutter at the thought.

The cold water helped.

He spent the time rowing back to where he’d parked his car thinking of how he was going to be late for work. He didn’t know how his dad would react to the news of him saving his favorite customer, but at least he had an excuse. He didn’t even know where she lived.

Gods in the seven heavens, he was going to have her in the car for who knew how long.

He hated this. He’d always been bad at small talk. And small talk with a girl… there was always that expectation. It was easier in school, because there was homework and group projects, and he didn’t have to bother with anything else. He’d gone there because he wanted to do something with his life, and he hadn’t wasted his energy on … all that. He’d always thought that would come when it was time. When he was ready. He knew other people thought him a loser for it, but who cared? It wasn’t like he was unfeeling. He’d been surrounded by attractive females, sure. It was college, after all. But why force it when he was so bad at the whole thing, and when his right hand would probably accomplish pretty much the same thing the other guys were trying to get, when it really came down to it?

But this… this…

Even beyond all that, any kind of talk with her, after all that happened, would likely be far from small. What the hell was he going to say? Were they supposed to just keep quiet? Maybe he could convince her to take a nap.

But would she be too cold to take one? The heater was on full blast, and that should help. He’ll have to offer her his extra shirt, the one he always had in the car in case he decided to take a dip. How would he get his shirt back, then? What would he do if she went to the diner with it and his dad saw her giving it back?

And shit, what if that thing comes up? Her absence two days ago, and the reason for it? He was panicking again, and he had to remind himself to relax.

But it was useless, after all, because when he got back to where he left her, she was nowhere to be seen. No dog, either.

“R—Rey?”

He felt ridiculous when he called out her name. The circumstances of their meetings made the single syllable a struggle to roll off of his tongue. If he knew her last name, maybe that would have been less awkward. But as it was…

No Rey.

Had she fallen in again?

He ran to the dock, and instead of any kind of new horror, he saw a pile of rocks on the planks of wood that hadn’t been there before. Under it, there was a scrap of lined paper torn off of some notebook. And in blue ink—

_Solo, my friend got me. Thanks again. Sorry you had to drive back. –R.K._

The handwriting was obviously a hurried chicken scratch, washed out in spots where droplets of water got to it. And towards the end of the message, she had to squeeze her letters together because she’d run out of paper.

She sure seemed in a rush to get away from him. Really, he couldn’t blame her. It was a good thing, actually. This way he didn’t have to risk opening his mouth and saying something stupid again. It was a relief.

He repeated the refrain to himself as he drove away.

It was a relief. Really.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying on! :)


	3. Chapter 3

*******

 

Thanks to Rey running off on Ben, he didn’t come in late, after all. There was more than enough time for a shower after that unexpected dunking—too much time, even, under the hot spray, just letting his mind process the afternoon.

He wondered who the “friend” was that got her. Could it have been Dameron? He thought she’d been muttering his name, and if he read between the lines correctly, the dog was his. At least they were gone when Ben got back to the dock. It was already a shitty situation without adding Dameron into the mix. He hadn’t seen the guy since he came back, and if he didn’t see him for another decade, that would be ten years too soon.

Unless Rey had lied in her note, and she just went off on her own. Would she have? Had she been so desperate to get away from him that she’d run off with that dog, both of them soaked to their jimmies, just so she wouldn’t have to ride with him?

What the hell had that girl even been thinking, jumping into the water when she didn’t even know how to swim? And that dog looked far too relaxed in the lake for that to have been its first time. Which had him concluding that this was Dameron’s fault. Of course. How fucking irresponsible to leave a dog that obviously loved the water with someone so unfamiliar with swimming that she couldn’t even tell that the animal hadn’t been struggling. By a _lake_.

He pressed his soapy palms against his closed eyes, as if he could rub away the memory of her face disappearing under the surface. If he hadn’t been there… if he’d been even half a minute away… gods. The earlier terror left him so drained, and he still had a full night of work to deal with.

As he put on his work clothes and ran a comb through his damp hair, he wondered: did this afternoon mean that they were even now? She’d thanked him for saving her life, but what if she still didn’t come back next Friday? Somehow he didn’t think his dad would be any happier with his heroics earlier if that was the case. He didn’t know how he could face another week of this uncertainty and his dad’s silence.

He had to make sure she’d come back. And that meant he needed to find a way to do what he should have done much earlier, offer her that one word that somehow still managed to elude him this afternoon.

This was a better kind of dread, he was discovering. The kind that still didn’t ensure a positive outcome, but at least he’d be doing something about it. And maybe that way, he’d have one less thing to lose sleep over at night.

The face that stared back at him in the mirror looked somewhat convinced that he could do this.

He decided, as he was scraping the griddle later while Chewie recounted a story he’d heard at least twice already, that the least he could do was bring Rey the meal that she missed yesterday. What he needed to figure out was how to get it to her. He knew next to nothing about her, not even where she worked. If it was close by—and judging by her regular weekly visits, it just might be—maybe he could duck out for a few minutes. That way, too, he’d have the excuse of needing to get back to the diner so he wouldn’t have to linger.

Not tonight, though. He wasn’t even sure if she was working tonight. He needed to plan this out first. And to shore up some courage for what was likely to be yet another awkward encounter. The last one, he hoped.

And if he succeeded, he’d finally get the whole thing out of his system. If he succeeded and she went back to her weekly visits, he wouldn’t even need to talk to her again. Or to even see her. It wasn’t like he was trying to be friends with the girl. He’d just stay in the kitchen, which wouldn’t be much different from how things already were, anyway.

That would be the best possible outcome, he was sure.

With how chatty Han had been with her, he likely knew everything Ben needed to get this over with. But Ben couldn’t bear the thought of asking his dad about her, not when he’d been so mad. Not when he was _still_ mad.

But maybe, just maybe, now would be the best time to bring it up. The busiest hour might prove enough of a distraction that Han might think twice about yelling his head off this time. And if Han heard of what happened this afternoon, maybe he’d crack a smile at him, for once.

He chanced a peek through the window, and immediately caught a glare.

Yep, this wasn’t going to work.

“… lay there, and we were thinking he was just dicking around, you know? Like he always does. So we just leave him there, and the ref doesn’t even say anything…”

Or he could just try Chewie. Who was right here. Who was the one person, other than Leia, that Han Solo trusted with the really important stuff. Han told his best friend everything, and it wasn’t unlikely they’d spoken of Rey, especially after last week. Who had always been nice to him—even better than a _real_ uncle, but Ben wasn’t going there. Who always echoed Han’s words, but with far less sarcasm and way more encouragement, and for that alone, a lot of times to better effect. Who wasn’t going to give him a hard time about this.

“Chewie,” he finally managed.

“… so I wasn’t—yeah?”

He was going to play this cool. Make it seem like a not-big deal. The lump in his throat tried to disagree, but he was having none of it.

“Uh… Rey, that girl from last week… I was just—I was wondering…”

Chewie paused from skewering thick slabs of marinated pork and actually looked at him. It was clear that he was trying to control whatever expression it was that was begging to come out his face, and Ben suspected it was amusement.

“Rey from last week, huh? What about her?” Chewie bit the inside of his cheek. Great. Now he was trying to be cute.

Ben was finding it difficult to speak while looking at Chewie, and really, this one corner that was a grease magnet needed extra attention, anyway. He gulped.

“Do you know where she works?”

Chewie wasn’t answering, and Ben slid a glance at him. The big, hairy grin that threatened to spill earlier was now fully evident. _Here we go._

And then Chewie hollered, “Hey, Han, come here for a sec, will you?”

“Wai—what? No, I don’t want to—”

Too late. Han popped his head through the window.

“What?”

Ben’s face was instantly hot and cold. “There’s no need—”

“Sorry, gotta take this to the smoker. Ben’s got a question for you.”

The screen door slammed shut behind Chewie, and the whistling that immediately ensued from outside only made the silence in the kitchen all the more awkward.

So much for _nice_ Uncle Chewie.

“Well?”

There was that pissy tone, as expected. But screw it. He’d only look even more ridiculous if he let this drag on for much longer.

“Fine. Just… you know Rey, right?”

Of course Han knew. As far as stupid went, asking that almost topped what he did last Friday, but his nerves—

“You mean Rey, that girl you had that lovely _conversation_ with last week? The one you were matchmaking with me?”

There was a snort from outside the door. If Chewie heard, everybody else in the diner surely did, too. Ben gritted his teeth.

But his dad wasn’t done.

“Girl didn’t come yesterday, probably went to the city to buy a big enough trough? _That_ Rey?”

This was exactly why he didn’t want to ask Han. Any time he asked for help, it always came prefaced with bullshit.

“Look, Dad.” He wasn’t going to raise his voice this time. _He wasn’t_. “I’m trying to make this right, okay?”

A look of surprise flashed over Han’s face, but his usual mask—somewhere between a scowl and a sneer—soon reasserted itself. “Are you, now? Took you long enough.”

This was the most his dad had talked to him in the last week, outside of the bare minimum for work stuff. He’d been feeling awful about Han’s silence, but this was almost making him reconsider.

Standing in the Falcon kitchen, a dishrag in his hand, he found himself looking at Han. Just staring at this man who looked so much like the person he saw in the mirror every morning. But this face, for the longest time, had no expression to show Ben other than disdain, annoyance or outright anger.

Always ready to believe the worst of him, his own father. Ben knew there’d been many times he hadn’t given his dad reason to think otherwise. He knew that piano hadn’t deserved it all those years ago, but he didn’t even want to be there in the first place, all alone in the city with an uncle he barely knew who pressed too much. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done to Hux, but even on a good day, he’d say he was almost certain the snake completely deserved it. The thing with Rey… he hadn’t told anyone just what Dameron had done, because what did it matter when it was his word against the golden boy’s?

He knew he shouldn’t have projected on Rey. He knew he could have just let Hux flap his lips all he wanted and it wouldn’t have made any of the things he said any truer. He knew it was all of these things he’d done that put those faces on Han, but the knowledge only made the familiar sour ball in his stomach even heavier. Didn’t make him any less angry right back because he _was_ trying now, and yet here Han was with his usual rock-bottom expectations.

“So?” All the impatience in the world condensed in a single syllable.

He looked away. Wiped down the stainless steel counter until it was a clean, dull grey, the exact state he wished his emotions could be all the time.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

A huff, and the soft thud of a palm slapping against the wall. And a mutter that managed to rise over the low din of spoons hitting bowls and indecipherable chatter, just loud enough to worm its way right into Ben’s ear.

“Stop wasting my time.”

Right. That’s what he was good at.

He looked at the clock. Too many hours till closing. He longed for the silence of midnight and the comforting cushion of darkness.

When Chewie walked back in, there was no more whistling, no more grins. There was, however, a gigantic hand, one that was even larger than his own, warm on his shoulder. It didn’t stay long. And a gentle, rumbling voice.

“You know that convenience store at Takodana? M-porium?”

He did. He’d gone into that store a few times to get gum and some illicit smokes on his way to the college just a block away, all those years ago. Those summer lunches with his mom, when he had nothing better to do. The lady who owned the place had some strong words when she caught him buying them once, and he hadn’t gone back. She threatened to tell his mom, after all. Who apparently bought the exact same foreign brand from there as well. He knew his mom smoked, but she’d always been careful not to do it in his presence.

“Yeah?”

“That’s where she works.”

Ah. He was a little surprised to find out that she biked all the way from there just to have some of Chewie’s stuff. It probably took her about twenty or so minutes, unless she knew shortcuts he didn’t.

He thought she fit the place well. The store was aged and looked a bit tired around the corners, but there were interesting things on some of those shelves that you wouldn’t have found anywhere else in town—dried fruit, candy, magazines, bottles of scent and other little trinkets from all over. One of the last few times he was there, he bought a small wooden wolf—he was in that phase—just big enough to sit on his palm. It was obviously the work of an amateur whittler, a cheap little thing whose smile in place of the usual frozen howl made it seem more like a puppy hoping for scratches than an icon of isolation. That kind of thing.

Not that he thought _she_ was interesting. No.

“Thanks,” was what he said to Chewie—and to himself, a reminder to focus on what he needed to do with this information.

“Mm-hmm. Why d’you need to know, though?”

“Oh. I was just thinking, you know, I can bring her some of that, uh, food she likes. After her shift.”

He didn’t need to look at Chewie because he could hear it in his voice, but this time, the hint of amusement was more kind than teasing. Not that this softer tone made his cheeks any less warm.

“That’s a great idea, yeah.”

“Mm.”

“Thing is,” continued Chewie, “you know we can’t spare you for that long. That’s about, what, an hour right there. Your dad won’t like it.”

That was true, and the time factor wasn’t something he’d given enough thought to. Maybe he could go before work. But then wouldn’t it be weird if he brought her food while she was still working?

“Best figure all that out, and I’ll help you then. You need me to cook, we’ll make an afternoon of it.”

His gratitude fortified him the rest of the busy night, and even his dad’s coldness became somewhat more bearable.

He was going to take care of this, and he was going to bring Rey back. That should show Han.

That night—or very early into the next day—he slept a little better than he had in a while.

 

*******

 

Monday night was one of those random off nights that Leia didn’t have to stay late performing her million responsibilities at the college or the arts center. Nights like this, she liked to kick off her shoes and shoot the breeze with whoever was lucky enough to catch her attention at the diner. At least she had that in common with Han. If he didn’t look so much like them, Ben thought he’d be able to believe he was some kind of changeling, with how little of his parents’ outgoing personalities he’d picked up.

The calm that had buoyed him since his talk with Chewie two days ago took a beating when Leia brought _that thing_ up. It was so unexpected, both in the very fact that she knew and in just _how_ she found out.

“I had an interesting chat with someone on my way home,” she said through the window. Beside her, Han was tapping a lazy beat with his fingers on the service counter, an eye on the few customers they had. “Rey said she saw you last Saturday, sweetie.”

The tapping stopped, the bowl of marinade in his hands almost tipped over, and Chewie’s whistling ended on a discordant note. Three pairs of eyes swiveled to him.

“I did. At the lake.”

“You didn’t mention that the other day,” said Chewie.

He figured getting back into stirring would encourage his heart to settle back into a nice, normal rhythm. When he didn’t say anything more, Leia spoke up again.

“She asked if you got her note.”

Oh, prophets. The girl told his mom about that. Why would she tell his _mom_?

“I did, yeah.”

Han’s voice was incredulous. “You and—you’re exchanging notes now? When did this happen?”

“No.” His denial was squeaky quick. Gods. If Han had given him a chance the other day to talk about this… but no. He just had to be difficult.

“I thought kids these days did that on phones. That… that Chitters thing.” Chewie raised his eyebrows in question.

“Your son’s a regular superhero,” Leia told Han as she patted his elbow. “Saving people in his off time and keeping it a secret, did you know?”

Oh, no. Oh, no, no. She just had to put it that way. Had to dangle it like a bone in front of Han like that.

“If he’s keeping it a secret, how am I supposed to know?”

“Mom, it wasn’t like that. It’s not a big deal.” He was lying. The other day, when he was trying to imagine how he’d tell them, it felt very much like a big deal. “Forget it.”

“Are you going to tell your dad or am I?”

He sighed. He might as well do it, just get the straight story out. His mom was already making this into a thing, and she hadn’t even gotten to the meat of it yet.

“I was at the lake. She jumped in after her dog, but apparently she’s not the best swimmer. I just helped her out.”

Leia shook her head. “That isn’t all she said. You raced all the way to her in your boat and dived in. It was very dramatic, Han. Ben even offered to drive her home. She said you were really nice after, too, sweetie.”

The words made his heart rattle in his chest. Did she, really?

“Did she, really?” came out in his dad’s voice as well.

He chanced a glance at his dad, whose eyes were fixed on him, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Han continued, “I didn’t know she had a dog. You sure it was Rey? As in—” he flicked his thumb at Ben “— _Rey_ Rey?”

“I think it’s that kid Dameron’s. I’ve seen it around,” Chewie contributed. “He was in your grade, right, Ben?”

“Yeah, cute little thing.”

He shot his mom a look. He knew his mom liked that wannabe rockstar from all the town concerts they’d organized together, but this was too much. Why were they even talking about Dameron?

“I meant Poe’s dog, silly. Finn brought him to the center once. Stole half of Teedo’s visitors, hah. Served him right. He was a baboon’s bottom the whole time he was there.”

“That garbage exhibit?”

Ben thought that was rude, even for Han, and Chewie seemed to agree because he let out a grunt. “Couldn’t have been that bad if Leia let him have that show.”

“I meant the whole thing was made with scraps. The pieces were literally garbage. Some kind of future dystopian wasteland thing, Mr. Proxy Outrage.”

He was more than fine with them derailing from the subject if it got them to stop talking about Rey. He was used to this kind of multithreaded, directionless conversation when it came to these three, and the best thing about these was that they all talked around each other and either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Ben tuned them out. But then his mom—

“Anyway, Ben, Rey said Finn drove her home.”

“She lives at that old sawmill with her uncle, right?”

He didn’t know who this Finn was, but the important thing was it wasn’t Dameron. Wait, no—it wasn’t—

“I think that was the first time Rey really talked to me. It was really cute. I might have scared the poor thing before when she was helping with a booth at the center.” Leia made a face.

“You scare everyone you meet these days, Princess. Why the hell didn’t you say something the other day, kid?” Han was back on track.

“Gee, I don’t know, Dad. Maybe because you wouldn’t let me,” he muttered.

Han pursed his lips and sighed, but for once, he didn’t sound angry about this.

Ben was distracted by Chewie nudging his arm. And his wiggling eyebrows and ridiculous grin.

“Kinda romantic, wasn’t it? Did you give her mouth-to-mouth?”

“What? No! Come on, Chewie, that isn’t…” He laid his palms flat on the counter and breathed deep. “There was nothing ro—it wasn’t anything like that. It was terrifying, okay? She could have died if I hadn’t been there. Stop laughing, Mom. This isn’t funny.”

“I just suddenly remembered your dad telling me you wanted her as your stepmom—”

“I’m just kidding, Benny. She’s okay now, isn’t she?”

“So is she coming back on Friday or not?”

Han’s question had them all looking at him again expectantly.

“That didn’t come up. What? Was I supposed to ask her that when she was freezing her ass off?”

The sound of Han’s sigh plucked at the overstretched string of Ben’s patience. He was about to launch into a defense when Han put his hand up and peeled himself from the wall because a couple of new customers had taken seats. Great timing, because he was pretty done with talking about this. Not a minute later, Han was shouting orders again, and Ben was grateful for the reprieve.

Through the rest of the night, as he chopped and stirred and plated and washed, one word burned in his brain: _soon._

 

*******

 

He went back to not being able to sleep after that. His mind had latched onto a tidbit of information that he’d heard in that conversation earlier but was only just now processing. Or overprocessing.

Chewie had mentioned the old sawmill. There was only one of those in town that Ben knew of, and as he lay in bed, he pictured the place as he’d seen it long ago. Close to the outskirts of town, he’d ridden on the old road once or twice that led past the wooden structures huddled around a wide yard. The logs that were stacked in between those buildings looked like they could crush a full-grown man in a second if he got careless, which meant that it was the perfect magnet for curious middle school boys.

But he’d been warned away by his classmates who’d been unfortunate enough to have given in to their own curiosity and received the wrath of the curmudgeon that owned the place. And he’d never been much of a thrill-seeker himself, so he’d satisfied himself with looking at the defunct operation from the safety of the road.

He hadn’t seen the place since he was twelve or thirteen, but if things hadn’t changed, he wouldn’t have thought that it was in any way a good place to raise a kid. But apparently, Rey lived there. But then, he didn’t know anything about her at all.

What kept pulling him up from the depths of sleep, really, was this sudden worm of an idea and the resulting indecision over whether or not he should just go there sometime after he woke up and get that whole thing taken care of. Would that even be okay, just showing up at someone’s place when you’re practically strangers? But then it wasn’t like he was staying or ever coming back. He was just dropping some food off. He’d make that clear.

When he floated awake again around dawn, he’d had enough of this particular fence digging into his ass and just crawled out of bed. Straight downstairs and into the kitchen.

Later, he couldn’t be sure if it was his nerves or the lack of sleep that was making his heart gallop and his hands shake a little as he stepped out of his car in the cool morning air. He was feeling very woozy and very stupid as he stood by the wooden fence, trying to figure out which of the buildings was actually the house. Little had changed since the last time he saw the place. It was already old back then and couldn’t have gotten much more dilapidated through the years.

Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.

But the paper bag of food cradled in his arms was like a warm, comforting presence that bolstered his courage. He’d spent more than two hours making sure he got everything right—or as close to what Chewie made as he could. There was no braised pork this time because that took hours to make fresh and he wasn’t going to give her leftovers from last night, but the soy garlic chicken came out nicely—if he said so himself—and he only wasted one egg when its yolk broke. A mountain of fried rice with carrots, peas and ham under the two eggs, and three hot skewers of sticky, sugary sweet potato. And this time, he was very careful and very liberal with the swirls of his chocolate syrup on the _entire_ banana pie that dangled from a separate bag clenched in his fingers.

Her birthday pie.

He just about had a heart attack when something hit the back of his leg.

“Solo?”

The hiss issued from a very alarmed-looking Rey. She stood open-mouthed on the dirt behind him, a very long stick in her hand, which she must have tapped him with. She was in yet another oversized hoodie, a beanie pulled over her messy hair. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the walk she appeared to have just finished.

“Hey,” was all he managed to say as he stared at her. The morning sun made her eyes sparkle and her skin glow.

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyes darted frantically between him and the buildings.

He gulped and shook the bags he was holding a little. “I just thought I should—”

“Shh, not so loud!"

She was suddenly pulling him back with a hand on the long sleeve of his shirt. She dragged him all the way back to his car.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but you shouldn’t have come,” she said, still whispering and looking at one of the buildings. Which must be the house, then. “My uncle doesn’t like visitors. Get in. _Quick._ ”

She opened the driver-side door of his car and pushed him in, bags and all. He had to contort himself just so he wouldn’t squish the pie. What the hell was this now? And then she ran to the other side and jumped in, closing the door behind her so softly that it barely clicked. She must have dropped her stick somewhere outside. The bags in his hands were gone in the next second.

“Drive. Just around the bend. Come on, Solo!”

He started the car and did as she commanded, wondering if he was really still asleep in his bed and this was all just a mad dream.

He didn’t get far before she told him, “This is okay now.” The few interminable seconds that the drive lasted, she had her head turned toward the buildings.

He killed the engine.

Silence.

He couldn’t look straight at her in the closed confines of his car, and it appeared it was the same for her. His mind suddenly went back to that time when they were so much closer—so close that her harsh breaths echoed right against his ear, so close that her wet eyes were like pools he could drown in. Her arms had been so strong around him.

He gripped the steering wheel tight and counted trees through the windshield. On her lap, the bags crinkled.

“Those are for you,” he said after a while, because she obviously needed an explanation.

“What’s this?” The question was cautious, and the husk of her voice crawled up his neck.

He looked at her knee from the side of his eye.

“You didn’t come last Friday.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and when he raised his own, she dropped her gaze.

“You didn’t need to do this.”

He chomped on his lips. This was the hard part. What he actually came here to do. He hadn’t had anything to eat, other than the few bites from tasting what he cooked, and he still felt like something was about to come up. But he had to do this.

“Actually, I did. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t saying anything, but her eyes were on him again. Those wide eyes that told stories that he suddenly wished to understand.

“I was an ass to you at the diner.”

Still nothing. If she wasn’t going to forgive him… But at least he tried this time. And then—

“Okay.”

Just like that?

Making peace—it felt fragile. It made _him_ feel fragile. Made his breath catch. But he was finding that he liked this feeling as it cascaded inside his chest.

He looked at her and he couldn’t help but smile. A tight little thing that pulled at his cheeks and made his nostrils flare, but it was there. There was an answering one on her face, and just as small.

“That isn’t your usual, by the way. I didn’t want to ask Chewie to come in so early.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“You said that you made it that time.”

Did he? He couldn’t remember. Had she been paying that much attention to his bullshit? He shrugged.

She all but stuck her face into the bag as she took a sniff.

“It smells good. I love garlic.”

He was suddenly wishing hard that she’d like what he made.

“It’s chicken. And there’s pie in the other bag. That’s all Chewie, though. Except for the chocolate syrup, that’s mine. I mean—I didn’t make it. I didn't make the syrup. The bottle’s mine. I just—just put some of it—” Fuck. He had to force himself to stop babbling.

She sighed. He didn’t know why she sighed, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

“Look, Solo… this is too much.” She shook her head. And then she was shifting in her seat, dislodging the bags—

No. No, no—

—opening the door and stepping out—

 _No!_ What was she doing?

And just like that, she was running back to the sawmill.

He couldn’t believe it. A heavy weight settled in his chest. She’d accepted his apology. She had! Had he said something again that he shouldn’t have?

The paper bags on the seat looked as rumpled as he was suddenly feeling. All that for nothing. There was a weird sensation at the back of his nose. He should never have gotten out of bed. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to just go to sleep right here. And maybe when he woke up, he’d find this was all just a bad dream. He was so, so tired.

The door was yanked open, and Rey slipped back in. There was rustling, and a metallic clink, and then one fork of a pair was waved close to his nose.

“I’m not taking this back to the house. You’ll have to finish this with me, Solo.”

She was sucking her bottom lip in, and her eyes were earnest.

A huff of laughter escaped his lips.

This girl was going to drive him absolutely crazy.

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the long wait. Haven't had as much time to write this past month. Thank you for reading, again. :)


	4. Chapter 4

*******

 

Ben’s car had fallen into an alternate dimension, his tired mind was certain. That was the only explanation for the otherworldly phenomenon of having a virtual stranger—no, not just a stranger, but a stranger he’d practically accused of being a sugar baby and then saved from a watery death all in the span of a week—in the passenger seat, her lap full of food he’d made. At _dawn_.

In this dimension, he was finding, it was pretty quiet.

He was grateful for having the excuse of a full mouth. There really wasn’t anything to say after he’d said his piece, and this way, he wouldn’t be running the risk of saying stupid shit again.

They’d divided the food between them, although it didn’t slip Ben’s notice that he still had most of the sautéed greens in the takeout box in his hand, or that Rey gave him barely a third of the mountain of fried rice. He thought he’d been far from hungry when she first suggested sharing, but thankfully his stomach hadn’t been too averse to the idea of eating so early in the morning like it usually was, after all.

The surreptitious glances he took of her showed him that Rey seemed to be okay with not talking, too, as she crunched her way through the food with impressive gusto. It was mesmerizing how her cheeks bulged, unapologetically full, as she chewed. There was also something about the shape of her nose that made him want to keep looking at its sharp edge and its pointy tip. And the rest of her face, really, since he’d already allowed himself the observation, anyway. Like an elf, she was, with her cloud of brown hair and that green beanie—a woodland elf that liked taking morning walks through the trees and had a humongous appetite.

She was cute. The _so what?_ he’d tagged on to this observation was directed at the heat that was once again finding its way to his cheeks.

She had a thoughtful, faraway look in her eyes, her dark brows close together, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was her trying to catalogue the different flavors and textures in her mouth that was putting that expression on her face. Every now and then, she nodded softly to herself and made low humming sounds.

He wondered what she was really thinking of. At least she didn’t look angry. It didn’t escape his notice that she was stealing glances at him, too, and it made him feel funny, being the object of someone’s attention this way.

The thought of her making observations about his own face was so sudden and so ridiculous and so instantly embarrassing that he choked. The kind that led to coughing—and not a polite chuff of air, either, but the full rice-down-your-tubes-and-out-your-nose kind.

In the next second she was pressing a huge drinking bottle—which had previously escaped his attention, and which she must have lodged between her hip and the door—into his hand and pounding his back with her open palm. Kind of hard, like she wanted to pop not just the blockage out but his lungs, too, while she was at it.

“Sorry—that’s tea, not water—you okay?”

“Thanks, yeah,” he told her after he caught his breath. He was not the biggest fan of unsweetened tea that was neither hot nor cold, but it did help. The tepid brew was a weird choice of drink, but who was he to judge?

He passed the bottle back to her. When she said nothing and just stared at it, he realized that maybe she didn’t want to drink her tea now that he’d had his mouth on the thing.

There was no end to this awkwardness.

“Here,” he offered, “there’s napkins in the bag. Let me wipe it off—”

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. Really.”

And he didn’t know if she was trying to prove just that to him or to herself, but she flipped the lid open again and took a swig. The bottle looked even bigger in her hands.

Some of the rice must have gotten lodged into his brain in that fit of coughing, because he thought of how heartily she ate and drank, and that monstrous bottle, and suddenly found himself saying, “You really like them big.”

He was aware the split-second after the words came out of his mouth that it sounded so stupidly suggestive. Which was far from his intention. But it was already out there, and so the only thing to do was clarify, because she was narrowing her eyes at him exactly like his outburst deserved.

“I mean your bottle. That’s a lot of tea. You can really put it away. Not that there’s anything wrong with that—”

Her lips got flatter and flatter, and he shut his mouth.

“Sure. It’s no trough, though, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

There were eight trees within the boundaries of his wind shield. Same as when he last counted them earlier. It helped that they were very nice to look at, because his eyes were once again frozen forward.

He was hopeless.

But there was a tap on his arm, and then a stick of fried, sugary sweet potatoes cut his view of the trees outside. He took it. Put an entire chunk in his mouth, too, just to be sure.

“Hmm,” she said, “these are almost as good as Chewie’s. Not quite there, but close.”

And when he looked at her again, there was a half smile lifting one corner of her sticky lips.

Funny girl.

He leaned back and closed his eyes as he chewed his dessert.

Really, this alternate dimension wasn’t so bad.

Later, after they did what they could with the pie—“Even I have my limits, you know,” she’d said—and as she folded the edges of a paper bag closed, he found himself pleasantly full, pleasantly sleepy, and wishing that the whole thing had lasted longer.

“Solo,” she said, so still in her seat, her hands clutching the wrinkled brown paper, “I really enjoyed this. Thank you.”

“Belated happy birthday, I guess?” he told her, because she looked so serious as she sucked on her lip. “Dad told me.”

And it seemed to work, because she huffed, and said, “Best birthday pie ever. I mean it.”

She opened the door, and stepped out.

And then she added, leaning down, “Course, Chewie made it.”

This time the smile on her face was ear to ear. And so was his.

She took her bottle, and made to grab the paper bags as well.

“I’ll bring those back with me. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right. I’ll see you around, Solo.”

But before he left, he had to know—

“Hey. Will you be there on Friday?”

She was silent for a long moment. And then she tapped on the roof of his car. “Let’s just see.”

She closed the door, and he knew that was all he was going to get.

As he turned his car around and pulled away, the image of her with her hand up in a small wave grew smaller and smaller in his rear-view mirror. But it stayed clear in his mind all the way home.

 

*******

 

He thought of little else over the next few days. In the darkest hours of the night, he allowed himself to slip back into the time in the car with her. He realized he knew so little of her, even after that. Maybe he should have asked about the sawmill. Or why her uncle didn’t like visitors, or if he was the same guy that scared his classmates off all those years ago. Or where she went with her huge stick.

But then he remembered that whole thing was just him making sure she’d come back. He wasn’t trying to be friends with her. He didn’t really do that kind of thing.

He hadn’t thought much about it before, but as he tossed and turned in bed, he wondered whether he’d been subconsciously sabotaging all his relationships. And just why. Maybe his life would have been so much easier if he’d nurtured friendships. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d really tried.

When he was in grade school, things were much simpler, because kids didn’t overthink shit and they just fell into groups together if they wanted to play. He’d even hung out with Dameron back then. Their moms were friends, after all, and he knew that Leia had wanted that friendship to be mirrored in their kids.

But there was no helping incompatible personalities, he supposed, and he found as they slipped into their teens that Dameron’s constant need to be in the spotlight grated on his nerves. And he must have rubbed Dameron the wrong way, too, because before he knew it, they were sniping at each other all the way through high school. It hadn’t helped that his mom had nothing but praise for the ass. And after that stunt with the spray paint, he’d wanted nothing more than to relocate Dameron’s pretty nose to the back of his head, and it was only the knowledge that his mom would never forgive him that he kept his fists to himself.

It had been the same way with Hux. They’d been cordial acquaintances at first, coursemates who’d shared the same academic ambitions. But it was a bitter lesson for him to learn that too much ambition can turn into hateful competition. The rest of it spoke for itself, and this time, and because he thought, very much mistakenly, that he needed alcohol that night, he wasn’t as successful as he’d been with Dameron at holding his anger in.

There was also that one girl who’d tried flattering him the first semester, but at least he’d caught on quickly. Bazine had thought she could turn his head for help with her assignments, and if he’d been a hornier fuck, he’d have been just another nerd she collected. And maybe that experience, brief and insubstantial as it had been, had made him even less enthusiastic about getting close with people.

It hadn’t all been terrible, though. He’d enjoyed his time with his rowing team, and his captain in particular had been someone whose dedication and discipline he’d admired. But respect didn’t necessarily translate into friendship, and besides, Phasma had graduated at the end of his second year. And while Mitaka had his own quiet fire in the water when he took the helm after Phasma, outside of it he was just as awkward as Ben, if not more so.

He didn’t know why he was like this. His mom, she’d tell him, “You remind me so much of your grandpa sometimes, sweetie,” and it was always with a bittersweet smile. He hadn’t liked hearing it, because he knew his grandfather had been a brooding, temperamental man who fully immersed himself in his music after his wife died, so much so that even now, Leia’s eyes became shadowed in the memory of his distance.

He didn’t know why he was like this, but he didn’t know how to be anything else, either. He had a short patience, just like his dad, but at least Han knew how to talk to people. Whenever Ben opened his mouth, there was always the possibility of casualties.

At least things had finally gone well with Rey. He still wasn’t sure if she’d be there on Friday, but he thought their last encounter had ended okay.

Maybe it was in part because of his dad, but he couldn’t remember any other time that he’d wanted to make amends so desperately with someone. Or maybe because he was growing up a little that he was realizing the importance of making things right after you mess them up. Whichever the reason, though, he knew how uncharacteristic this was of him to be so focused on someone this way.

He thought of the face she’d made after he said all those things to her that first time, the hurt and embarrassment he’d made her feel, and he knew that he’d never want to make that same mistake again. She hadn’t deserved any of it, and if he’d been the slightest bit more self-aware and less imaginative when it came to his dad’s motivations, none of it would have happened.

But there was a part of him that wondered: if it hadn’t happened, would he be thinking of her like this? There wouldn’t have been any need for him to bring her food that other day, and he wouldn’t have spent that time eating quietly in his car with her.

The thought unsettled him, even more than he already was.

But then there was that time at the lake, too. Maybe if they hadn’t met the way they did at the Falcon, the lake thing would have been colored entirely differently. Maybe she wouldn’t have said no to getting into his boat with him. Maybe he’d have driven her home himself. If that’s how it went down, and she hadn’t told him, “They weren’t wrong about you, after all,” how would things have been different?

The maybes spiraled around his tired mind.

Tomorrow was Friday, and it felt like everything hinged on tomorrow.

And even as he slipped into sleep, his mind was fixed on her.

 

*******

 

She’d come.

He knew, because his dad’s greeting was very effusive and very loud. But more than the volume of Han’s exclamations, the thought that she’d actually come slammed into his being, a tidal wave of relief that wrecked him.

It had eclipsed every other thought all day, worrying whether she’d be here or not. Pure torture, just wondering if he could finally put the whole thing behind him and go back to feeling wretched about where his life was going instead. He hadn’t told anyone that he’d gone to her house because he didn’t want them getting their hopes up if she didn’t show up today. He told himself he’d weather their disappointment if that happened.

_But she’d come._

It was a good thing he was sautéing vegetables because tossing them in the pan meant the shaking of his hands wouldn’t be so visible. He felt dazed even as Chewie smacked his arm on his way to the window to say a quick hi to her.

He’d planned to keep out of her way if she ever did come back, but he found himself wanting to see her. He marshaled the urge to peek, but his hot ears were peeled to every sound they made out there. He couldn’t hear very well, however, over the sizzling pan, and so he turned the heat off earlier than he should have—underdone veggies were not the worst thing in the world. He dumped it into a bowl for a customer, and as the cloth in his hand wiped at a clean spot on the ceramic rim over and over, he finally made out what they were saying.

“—get home early. You know how he gets sometimes.”

“Yeah? Is he giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, no. It’s just his gout was acting up again.”

“Your uncle’s a paranoid nut. He needs a doctor for that, not that—does he still make you buy that snake oil online? But I guess that’ll be me in a few years, huh? That’s why I keep telling you, eat your red meat while you can, kid. So, your usual, then?”

“Oh, I was thinking—I was thinking I could maybe try something else.”

“Hmm? Anything wrong with the special? You don’t like the new sides?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s great. Just… something different for now.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. What’ll you have, then?”

“Uh… do you have the, uh... the soy garlic chicken?”

Ben didn’t really hear what his dad said to that because he was suddenly feeling intensely lightheaded.

 _Soy garlic chicken._ What he’d made for her on Tuesday.

When his knees stopped trying to buckle, he heard Han at the service window telling Chewie what Rey asked for. And he knew what he had to do, what he _wanted_ to do, and so he found himself saying—

“I’ll make it.”

He didn’t look at them, and he didn’t bother waiting for their reply. He was very aware of the weight of Chewie’s gaze as he made the food for Rey. If he’d been anxious that Tuesday morning about getting it right, this time he was so elated she’d asked for it that he was sure, _absolutely sure,_ that it would turn out perfect. He felt like he was possessed.

There were no words as he plopped the bowl on the counter for Han to take, but he felt like his entire being was lit up from inside. On fire. And he looked straight into his dad’s eyes without flinching, for once, and Han’s face was inscrutable. And he followed the bowl with his eyes as it made its way to the person that asked for it, because really, he didn’t feel like lying to himself any more about what this was, and he really, really wanted to see her.

The sight of her had him gulping and chewing his lips. But then she saw him, too, and her face broke into a big smile.

And that smile just about melted all his bones.

What the fuck did it mean?

Next to him, Chewie must have seen it, too, because he said, “So that worked out well, huh? I was waiting for you to say something because I saw you made something that morning.”

“Yeah,” was all he could say, really, as he busied himself cleaning up.

“Looks like she really likes your chicken,” Chewie teased, but he didn’t care.

“Looks like it.”

Chewie laughed. “You should see your face. It’s about ready to split.”

He didn’t need to see because he could feel the effort of holding his own smile in. And he was failing.

And so he excused himself, mumbling something about the bathroom, and flew out of the kitchen, right upstairs into his room, where he dropped face down into his bed and finally let that damned smile out.

 _Goddamn, Rey K._ He still didn’t know her last name, but he suspected he was going to find out. He suspected he was going to find out so many things about her in the coming days.

He didn’t stay too long in his bedroom because he didn’t want her to leave without seeing her again.

If he’d been braver, he’d have walked up to her and… and said something. But his heart was tripping like crazy in his chest, and he was in the middle of work, and his dad was out there with her, and he was Ben Solo, master fucker-upper. So he contented himself with walking past the window whenever he could and stealing glances at her.

This was okay for now. He had all the time in the world to figure this out.

 

*******

 

That night, in the sacred dark of his room, he thought of her eyes, and her pink lips, and her big smile, and her voice, and the press of her arms against his shoulders, and how her breath brushed against his ear, and the way her name felt in his mouth, and it was more than enough to have him spurting hot in his hand. He felt like a helpless, hopeless fuck, but this time he sunk into sleep smiling, for once.

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the longest chapter, but our Ben's finally admitting things to himself. And just who knows what goes on in Rey's mind? Thank you for reading, as always. :)


	5. Chapter 5

*******

 

For how little sleep Ben had, he woke up even earlier than usual. Instantly alert, as if a switch had been flipped and everything inside him was bright as soon as his consciousness became aware of itself. There was none of the brain sludge that had plagued him for too long, that made him feel like he'd rolled over one muddy hill of a day to another whenever he woke up.

And then he remembered just why, and his smile was just as instant.

He pulled the blanket over his face and curled his being around the memory of how she’d looked at him. That smile. _Just for him_. For many long moments he savored the image—those eyes that sparkled, those grooves on her cheeks, that toothy grin, the way she’d leaned forward on her seat as soon as she saw him—what did it even mean?—until the unfamiliar excess of early morning energy compelled him to jump out of bed and actually do something to relieve it.

He went to the lake with a mind to burn it off. He thought the physical strain could take the lightning out of his elbows and knees. And when he got there, he found the calm waters did wonders in smoothing out the jagged edges of his excitement.

Was there a part of him that wouldn’t let go of the thought that it was Saturday, exactly a week after that lake incident? Sure—the very same part that wondered whether her days off were regular, that made him want to beeline straight for the dock she’d been on. But he forced himself to temper the hope. That was the only time he could remember ever seeing her at the lake, after all, and it was much earlier than it had been last week. There was no reason to think she’d be here again.

Still, when he got to the dock and found it empty, he couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over him.

And when the butterflies in his stomach quieted down, reason found its voice again.

Looking back at how he’d jumped at the chance to make the food for her last night, he felt more than a little silly. Right in front of his dad and Chewie, no less. Last night, his emotions had gone into overdrive. And he knew best, of all people, that to give his emotions free rein was just to ask for trouble. Hadn’t this whole thing started with him jumping into action too impulsively, without pausing long enough to think of how things could go?

As he rowed away, he forced himself to think about this more realistically. So he had a crush. Did it need to be a big deal? He didn’t think so. He’d had crushes in the past. So what if none of them had quite smiled at him like she had? Or teased him after he’d brought her a peace offering? Or even _needed_ a peace offering from him in the first place? Or to be saved from drowning?

So what if the universe had seen fit to throw them together in all these strange ways? He didn’t believe in any of that fate crap. He wasn’t—and had never been—a starry-eyed, hormonal, girl-crazy guy. And a relationship like that was the last thing he needed. Gods knew he had far more important things to settle first. He had nothing to offer her.

He didn’t even know how long he was going to stay here.

This was a temporary thing, and it had been the unspoken understanding between him and his parents. It wasn’t the worst thing, working at the Falcon, but the last two weeks had proven that things between him and his dad would likely always be fragile. He was always going to mess up, and his dad would always be disappointed.

The mournful melody that floated over the quiet of the lake was an apt background for his musings. His hands stilled as he listened to the barely-there sound, and he wasn’t even sure if it was actually there or if he’d imagined the familiar tune—he couldn’t escape it all, after all. But then it was gone, and he was even more alone with his thoughts than ever.

Someday soon—whether that was in two months, when that letter in his nightstand said he’d maybe get a chance again, or the end of the year—he would move on with his life, and maybe time and distance would be the best thing to help forget the things that hadn’t gone right. And he knew this from firsthand experience: when he was in the city, there were many times he’d missed Mom and Dad because most of those things had faded into the background of his everyday life.

At least he got to fix this one fuck-up for his dad’s sake. He was glad. After Rey left last night, Han had knocked on the counter and called him over. And then with something wry on his face that could have been the beginnings of a smile, he’d told Ben, “Whatever you did to get her back here—looks like it worked, huh? I’m not asking if you don’t want to say, but… you did good, kid.” And then Han stepped away, because neither of them were good with shit like that and they both knew it. But it had felt good to hear those words from his dad.

 _You did good, kid._ That should tide him over till his next fuck-up. It was just the ebb and flow of things.

But he understood now just why they’d loved having Rey at the Falcon. Crush or no crush, she was just… likeable. He’d paid attention last night, as much as he was able, to their conversation. Han had prattled on about a game the other night, and he knew, from how Rey asked about this or that, that she didn’t follow the sport, and yet she’d stayed interested and _wowed_ and _huhed_ at all the important places.

If he was the type of guy who could sustain a normal conversation like that, he thought it would be nice to talk with her.

Maybe that would be enough. The occasional chit-chat with no stakes. He wouldn’t have to commit to figuring out where these feelings were going, or if they even had to go anywhere at all. It would just be something to brighten his day a little whenever it happened. If it even happened. That would be the best way to look at this, he finally decided.

That fate thing that he didn’t believe in seemed to be hard at work, though, because the third time he passed by the dock, she was there.

She was already looking at him as he approached, a pinched little smile on her face that showed him she was back to being cautious. For once, she wasn’t buried in bulky layers of clothing, and her maroon shirt brought out the color of her hair, the top half of which she’d tied back.

She was so fucking pretty.

Just like that, his heart was aflutter again. But that was okay. Nice, simple, no-stakes chit-chat. He could manage this.

She lifted her hand from her lap for a second in a wave, and she was the first to say, “Hey.”

“No dog today?” was what came out of his mouth as he drifted closer to her. Next to her, there was a bag, and in the distance, he could see her red bike standing on the pebbly shore.

She closed the notebook on her lap and fiddled with her pen.

“Not today, no. I don’t think I’m ready for a repeat of the last time.”

That had him chuckling. _Chuckling_.

“Me being here is a waste, then.” As soon as he said that, he realized it could be misconstrued in so many ways. “I mean that’s not why I—I don’t want you to jump again. I don’t want to have to—I mean not that I wouldn’t if you did, because I don’t want you to drown either—just—”

He was pathetic.

But then she was laughing, too, at his verbal diarrhea.

“Don’t worry, Solo. I won’t put you out again—that was a one-time thing. Quite comfy where I am.”

She did, in fact, look quite comfy—so comfy that he had the momentary urge to sit right there with her.

But he said, instead, “Do you come here often?”

He was close enough to see how her eyes widened at his question. She worried her lip for a second. “No, uh, not really. It’s my day off today, and I thought—I thought it would be nice in here.”

“Pretty day, yeah.” Really pretty. His eyes dropped to her shirt for a second. “It’s getting warmer.”

“It is.”

There was a long moment of awkward silence, and Ben was very aware that they were both skimming glances at each other. He wondered if that was it, and if he should get going.

But then she piped up, “Oh, the chicken last night was good. Your dad said you made it.”

Maybe this conversation didn’t need to end so soon, after all.

“Yeah, I figured that’s why you asked for it.” Did that sound too much like self-praise? “You know, because you always ordered something else. I thought you liked it. From when I—from that morning, I mean.”

“Oh—oh, yes. That’s why, yeah. Thanks. For making it, I mean.”

“Sure.” He felt his cheeks go warm. He puffed them out. “And thanks for coming back. They like having you there. My dad gave me so much shit about that whole thing.”

Her brows furrowed when she asked, “Is that why you went to my house? Did Han ask you to do that?”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to say… you know. Sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. “No, he didn’t even know about that. Mom brought it up, actually. She said you talked to her.”

“She comes to the store sometimes. I just wasn’t sure you got my note, so…”

There was silence again. And so when it came to him, he asked, “So you only come on Fridays?”

“Yeah. It’s like a treat, so… too much of a good thing if it’s more than that, you know? Just something to change things up. You get sick of meat buns from the store after a while. Or your own cooking. Maybe not you, since you’re good at it.”

He smiled at her compliment, even though he wasn’t sure it had a solid basis. “You’ve mostly had Chewie’s stuff. Maybe I just got lucky that one time.”

“Two times,” she reminded him.

Ah, he’d forgotten yesterday. He shrugged. “Or maybe you just have low standards.” He cringed inwardly.

But her eyes were crinkled in amusement as she looked at him. “Maybe. So yeah, just Fridays. Plus it’s great since the next day’s my day off, and it’s the weekend.”

“You don’t go out on Fridays, then?” That’s what people did, right? Or was asking that too invasive?

“Not really, no. I’m too beat by then. Saturday is usually when I get to do stuff with my…”

She stopped talking and looked away, as if she’d said too much. He looked at her expectantly, and it seemed it worked, because she continued.

“It’s just harder these days to meet up with my friends. Work and school. I mean they’re in college on top of work.”

“You’re not?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t go to college?”

“No.” She shook her head and looked away.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. She’d put up a wall, and he found he didn’t like it. In her hand, her pen went round and round.

“Hey,” he blurted out. “Do you want to ride with me?” He patted the edge of his boat.

 _Why did he say that?_ He’d told himself he’d keep this nice and simple, and he’d already chatted a good chunk with her. But that pep talk was before they actually talked. He was finding he didn’t want it to end quite yet.

She dropped her eyes to the boat, and then they flew right back to his. So serious.

“Ah, no. Thanks, really, but no.”

He’d blown it. With his pushy questions. He knew he wouldn’t like it if a virtual stranger asked him about how college went. Maybe she’d had a bad experience, too. What had he been thinking?

Her answer was clearly an indication that they were done talking for now. He chomped on his lips and nodded.

“All right, then. I guess I’ll see you around.”

He began pulling away from the dock. He can deal with the disappointment. He needed to. And the best thing to do for it right now was to leave before it overwhelmed him.

She got to her feet.

“Just—” she began, and he looked at her as she struggled to find the words. “I’m afraid of the water. It’s just—you go so far out there, and I can’t swim, and—”

That stopped him in his tracks. Her voice had gone up a few notches, and he could see she was digging her nails into her palms. He knew that she couldn’t swim, but she had jumped in after that dog. Not knowing how to swim and being actually afraid of the water weren’t the same thing.

She stood there on the dock, tripping over her words. And was she actually shaking?

_What had he done?_

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to—”

And then she was stuffing her things into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. This—he’d seen it before, and once again, it was because of something he’d said.

“Maybe another time,” she said. And then she was running off.

Again.

So he couldn’t even have casual conversations with her. Even that he had to ruin. He watched as she got on her bike and pedaled away.

He’d woken up so happy this morning. Maybe he was just hardwired to be miserable, and the world simply found ways to accommodate him. If he’d known it would come back to this, he wouldn’t have jumped on that joy last night.

At least it had been fleeting. You can’t really miss what you’ve never actually had.

 

*******

 

He didn’t want to go, but his mom was insistent. They hadn’t had a lunch out like they used to all those years ago, Leia said, and she threw in a convincing bit of whine and mentioned a meeting with a guest speaker she didn’t particularly care for and some of the other faculty members.

“I can get away earlier if I tell them I have a lunch appointment. You don’t have anything to do, right?”

He sighed at the phone against his ear. “Are you actually asking me to help you shirk your duties, Mom?”

She laughed on the other end. “I prefer to call it _streamlining_ , honey. Come on, Ben, help your mom out.”

There was no saying no to Leia Skywalker Solo when she was being like that, and it wasn’t likely to be an important meeting if she could get out of it. And so he put a nice shirt on because Mr. Threepio was as stuffed as his tomato-and-cheese dumplings and wasn’t a fan of the casual look, and then he got on the bus because he didn’t feel up to driving. They agreed to meet at the restaurant because he wanted to minimize the chance of seeing anyone he knew at the college.

The familiar scenery outside the bus window was the perfect background for letting his mind wander.

There was a store so close to the college that he was trying hard but failing even harder not to think about. What’s worse was he had to walk past it on his way to the restaurant. He’d thought of little else since his last encounter with Rey two days ago, and seeing her right now would be counterproductive to all the sleepless rationalizing he’d managed to do since then.

When he got to the stop two blocks away from the restaurant, he texted his mom.

_< Just got off the bus. Are you done with your meeting?_

His phone vibrated as he walked.

_> Not yet. Maybe 15 mins. Tarkin tarkin his head off haha_

He sighed but smiled at his mom’s pun. And then his phone buzzed again.

_> Need a smoke real bad. All out. Be a dear n get ur mom some_

Dammit. The only place that had her brand was the one place he didn’t want to go to right now. Was this whole lunch-out thing just some ploy by his mom to get him to… to do what, exactly?

Before he could think of how to convince her she didn’t actually need it, she sent another message.

_> Got a headache. Ty sweety. cant wait 2 c u_

He looked up at the sky and let out a deep breath, and then typed a reply. 

_< OK_. 

Really, it wasn’t, but he could be mature about this. Rey might not even be there right now. It was only one o’clock. And if she was… well… a short greeting should cover it. Just no conversations.

He trudged his way to M-porium and thankfully didn’t see anyone familiar. When he got to the old stone building with the colorful streamers outside, he took a long moment to compose himself.

She was there. In a khaki vest trimmed in red and her hair tied back and stuffed under a cap with an M emblazoned in front. Transacting with a customer and fiddling with something from under the counter, and so she didn’t see him come in even though the door had tinkled. He ducked into an aisle because apparently he needed more than that moment outside. He picked up some gum because it was right there. But he’d have to talk with her directly to get the cigarettes from behind the counter.

And so with a final deep breath and a reminder to himself that he was a grownup, he walked up to the counter. And slammed right into her wide eyes under the rim of her cap. Or at least it felt like a slam, with how it rattled everything inside him.

There were no smiles this time. Just a lot of uncertainty.

“What are you doing here?” He thought she sounded a little breathless.

He almost explained to her about having lunch with his mom. But then that would be a conversation.

And so he put his gum on the counter and simply said, “I need a pack of Havao Tabacc.”

She drew in an audible breath and turned around. She opened a glass case behind her with a key from the lanyard around her neck.

Then came in a low voice past her chapped lips, “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s really bad for you.”

He huffed, but there was no amusement in it. “You tell every customer who buys smokes that?”

He didn’t like the look that put in her eyes. Ah, shit.

“No,” she said in an even smaller voice. “Sorry.”

They didn’t really have anything, but they’d been further reduced to this. There was a lump in his throat as he handed her a bill.

She continued as she punched it in, “My uncle has COPD. It isn’t pretty.”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore. And her face…

“I don’t smoke anymore. It’s for my mom. She asked me to buy some.”

Her hand froze over the till, and her throat worked. Still, she kept her eyes down. Maybe that was better.

“Your change.”

And that was that. The only thing left was to step away and get out, and he’d be done with this. But his feet were frozen to the floor, the same way her eyes were on the counter.

Behind him, the door tinkled.

“Heya, Toofs. What time are you taking your break later?”

Rey’s eyes flew to the guy who was walking up to the counter. She smiled. It wasn’t the same smile she’d given him on Friday—in fact, it looked very strained as her eyes bounced between them—but it irked him nonetheless. He wasn’t going to process just why.

The guy continued, “I might be able to drag Rosie away. I don’t think she has—”

And then he saw Ben, and instantly his face cooled. Like he’d recognized him. He had no idea who this guy was, but he was clearly very familiar with Rey. One of her friends who went to college without her, he guessed.

Time to go, that was clear. As he passed the newcomer, he heard a very distinct snort. And when he looked at the guy, he was sneering.

“The fuck’s your problem?” he hissed as he walked out.

Before the door closed behind him, he heard Rey say, “Come on, Finn, you didn’t have to—”

So that was Finn. The guy who’d taken her home from the lake. Her friend, she’d said. And one close enough to be giving her nicknames.

None of his business, really.

He let his mom unload all throughout lunch. He thought of what Rey said about getting tired of your own cooking, and normally he would have agreed as he chewed on the beautifully baked fish. He wondered what she would say about Threepio’s fancy food. She would probably like it. On any other day, he would have enjoyed imagining how Threepio would choke if he saw Rey scarfing his _art_ down in five seconds flat. But this self-inflicted torture of thinking of her dulled all flavor until he could barely swallow past his thick throat.

When his mom touched his hand as it pushed food around his plate and asked if he was okay, he told her he was just tired. And it was true. He wanted to just sink into his bed and sleep the afternoon away. But he couldn’t even do that because he just had enough time to get home and change for work.

His mom caressed his cheeks when they said goodbye, with a promise she’d try to pass by the Falcon later. And he knew she was in that too-gentle mode again when she held him for a long time before she walked in the other direction.

On his way to the bus stop, he walked on the other side of the street just so he wouldn’t have to go past M-porium again. He was that pathetic. It was just simpler that way. Best way to avoid trouble was to keep your head down, and all that.

But then—

“Solo! Hey, wait up—”

She actually grabbed his arm to stop him. And didn’t let go. And he was too tongue-tied to do anything but watch her catch her breath, her chest a bellows and her hair escaping that silly red work cap. And then he saw her earnest hazel eyes, and he couldn’t think of looking anywhere else.

“I’m sorry I ran off on you the other day. I’m afraid of the water because when I was five, my dad threw me into a pool when he wanted me to learn how to swim. He was a diver, and he said that’s how he learned. But I almost—I almost drowned, and since then, I can’t—I can’t—it was just impossible.” She was speaking so fast, like she’d spent the last hour practicing what she wanted to say. “And then—and then, you know what? My dad died at work. He drowned at the offshore rig he worked at.”

He wanted to crush her to him. Never in his entire life had he ever had the urge to do that to another person, but seeing her shaking in front of him, with her eyes watering even as she huffed at the irony of her diver dad drowning, her fingers desperately holding onto his sleeve—he just wanted to take her in his arms.

He knew he had no right, but he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Rey, you don’t have to say sorry for that. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m the one who should be sorry for bringing that all back for you.”

“No, listen, Solo. I’ve been reading about it for a long time, and really, I should have done something about it sooner. People can sometimes overcome phobias. Your lake… it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen—” why did she call it _his_ lake? “—and I just need to get used to the idea of being in the water. So… so what I’m asking is, will you be there tomorrow?”

Tomorrow… he could be there tomorrow. But what exactly did she need from him?

“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything before work.”

“Okay. Okay.” She nodded to herself, the action making a single tear spill. “I have Tuesdays off, too, so… if you’re okay with it, maybe… maybe you can help me—I don’t know—”

“Of course,” he found himself saying. “Of course I’ll help you. Anything.”

“I know it’s asking a lot, and we barely know each other, but—”

“Don’t think about it. I’ll be there.”

In the middle of the busy sidewalk in the middle of the day, with people he barely noticed spilling all around them, Ben Solo made his promise to this girl he knew so little about but whose eyes looked like they’d been visiting his dreams since the very beginning of time.

She smiled her watery smile at him, and he knew no amount of self-doubt would stop him from keeping his promise.

“Sorry,” she said finally, wiping at her eyes shyly. “I’m being ridiculous.”

He found himself smiling. And then reaching into his pocket boldly.

“Give me your number. So you can text me. Just—just in case. Just to be sure.”

She plugged her number into his phone.

“Thank you, Solo. This means a lot.”

He nodded at her.

“Sorry—I have to get back to work,” she laughed.

“Oh—yes. Me, too, actually. Got a bus to catch. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“All right.”

He walked backwards and away, and he took the smile she gave him all the way home.

 

*******

 

_< I don’t know what your last name is. _

He finally got the courage to send the message that night after writing, rewriting and deleting variations of it, hours after they’d agreed on their meeting time. He didn’t even know if she was already asleep. Maybe he was being too rude.

But he’d already pressed send.

And then—

_> hey solo _

_> my name is rey isobel kenobi _

He rolled the name around in his mind. And on his tongue. And shuddered right along with it.

_< See you soon, Rey Isobel Kenobi. _

And then he fired off another—

_< But call me Ben. _

 

*******


	6. Chapter 6

*******

 

 

Rey had called the lake beautiful, and there was no arguing with that. Ben’s love lay before him in all its grey and green splendor, the morning sun and the absent wind turning its surface into bright glass that caught the sky, and yet its allure failed to hold his attention. Instead, his eyes kept straying to the path that wound its way between the trees and led up the gentle slope right to the road.

Any second now, she’d roll down on her red bike to where he was, and he’d make good on his promise to help her. He’d spent the last ten minutes—really, all morning, but as it came closer to nine, he’d gotten more counterproductively desperate—trying to slow his heart down and convincing it that it wouldn’t do him any good to appear over-eager when she got here.

But it was damn hard to not be over-eager for one Rey Isobel Kenobi.

He didn’t know why she’d asked him, of all people, after the awkward agony of their short acquaintance. She had close friends, and yet she’d practically pleaded with him with her wet eyes and her hand on his sleeve and her trembling words—how could he have said no?—to help her overcome this fear she had of the very thing that made him most happy in life.

In his sleepless anticipation, he’d neglected to formulate a solid plan for how they were going to do just that. Was she expecting him to teach her to swim? The skill had been a prerequisite for joining the rowing team, but he was far from being a qualified instructor. Just in case, he brought a towel and a shirt—shirts, really. On the unlikely chance that she didn’t bring her own. The image of her in nothing but his shirt had almost driven him to… take matters into his own hand—again—before he left earlier. But he couldn’t think about that right now.

If she wanted to get into the water a different way, he had his boat ready. He’d left his car by Artoo’s place and rowed here, terribly conscious the whole time of the effort he’d been expending on keeping his strokes slow and even. He wasn’t sure how much she’d hate being so far from shore so soon, but he wanted the option available.

He was surprised to hear an engine shut off, which only meant that she’d had someone drive her. This hadn’t been part of their agreement, and spikes of annoyance poked at the back of his head. It was probably that Finn dude again. The guy who had a nickname for her that made her smile but who, along with her other friends, had broken her heart when they went to college without her. After that encounter at the store, he was certain nothing good could come from being within twenty feet of the guy. He didn’t want to have some kind of showdown with Rey’s friend. But how can he back out of this when they were already here?

He wondered for a desperate second if he should bolt.

But she was alone when she walked into sight, to his confusion and relief, her backpack bouncing behind her. He didn’t know how much longer it would last, this instant effect she had on his senses every time he saw her. She was in shorts, and he couldn’t help but stare. Her sure strides ate up the path before her, and as he looked at the grim determination on her face, he realized he’d been mistaken in his earlier estimation: she was no elfin maiden strolling through the trees, but a long-limbed warrior ensuring the safety of her woods. Absolutely ridiculous, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Maybe he should stay off of the fantasy books for a while.

Her expression softened when she saw him, a small smile teasing her lips.

“Hey.”

“Someone drive you down?” _That’s right, Ben Solo, just cleave your way past even the simplest greeting._ Because of course, his mouth.

She raised her eyebrows. Which just made her eyes even bigger as she stepped up to him.

“I just thought… your bike.”

“Oh. It’s Tuesday, so I get my uncle’s truck. I usually get groceries on Tuesdays and do errands around town.” And then a breathless chuckle. “I mean it’s nothing sexy like your dad’s four-by-four, but it’s good enough to haul cereal and TP.”

The way she shaped her mouth around her words was very distracting, up close like this, and he barely followed what she was saying.

“Dad won’t let me touch it.”

For some reason, her face broke into a grin.

“He told me you got it into your head to try his new car out when you were fourteen and almost ran a family of possums over.”

Just how much had Han blabbed? And why to Rey, of all people? Time and time again, Ben had proven to be more than capable of embarrassing himself without anyone’s help, but Han just had to be so proactive in giving him a hand.

The pebbles underfoot were all kinds of interesting shapes as he dug the toe of his shoe into them.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t hit anything,” he mumbled.

“Just the side of that tree, hence the scratch that you had to explain.”

“I mean—yeah, I mean I didn’t hit any of the possums. And he gave the car to me later, anyway.”

A tap to his elbow snapped him out of it.

“Ben.”

It was just one word, just his name, but the impact of her voice wrapping around it for the first time pulverized his bones. She stood so close.

“Do you know what Han told me? He said he was sure you’d be an even better driver than him, and he didn’t want you to get ideas. He didn’t have anyone worrying for him when he did it, but… it’s different with you.” She tsked. “And I just broke a promise there because he told me not to tell anyone he said that. Eep.”

Han had raced cars when he was younger. Never anything official, and he was all the more reckless for it. Ben didn’t think he’d ever have gotten into it like his dad, but finding out that Han had preemptively nipped it in the bud out of worry for him…

“So, should we…?”

Her voice snapped him back to attention.

“Yeah. Did you want to get into the water?”

Rey’s forehead scrunched with worry as she looked at the lake.

“Maybe… maybe not so deep for now.”

“Oh, no,” he was quick to reassure her. “We could get our feet wet first to get a feel for it.”

She looked dazed, but she gulped and nodded her head. And then promptly began unlacing her boots. Her backpack dropped to the ground next to her as an afterthought.

He toed off his own shoes. He was already in his swimming shorts, but he didn’t know if he should take his shirt off now, or just how to ask her about hers. Was she even wearing a swimsuit under her sweater? He wasn’t going to think about that now, not when her distress was visibly mounting. _He wasn’t_.

“Sol—Ben. Can I… can I hold your hand?”

She can hold his everything, he wanted to tell her, but he only stretched his hand out to her. Her fingers were ice as they wrapped around his, and that was how they wordlessly made their way to where the water kissed the shore. As soon as her feet touched the lake, her hand in his shook even worse, and still she plowed forward, almost dragging him with her.

And then she stopped and just stood there.

“It’s gonna be okay, Rey. There’s no rush.”

As he looked at her breathing hard, just trying to face this, he had the insane urge to hold her close to him. She’d done nothing but give him insane urges the past two weeks. But this time, he just wanted her to feel safe.

He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to try going deeper?”

Her voice was so small when she said, “The water’s kinda cold, isn’t it?”

He didn’t think so, but then his body had always been a natural furnace, and more importantly, he wasn’t battling terror like she was. And he remembered—

“It was much colder that time with your dog, and you jumped in just fine.”

Her wail of laughter was clearly one of panic. “Just look how well that turned out for me.”

And then he understood that maybe she’d tried to be brave for her canine charge, but the experience of almost drowning again, and on top of that, the time she’s had since then to process it, made her fear even more monstrous.

“Maybe we’re here too early. Should we have done this in the afternoon?”

Her breathless “No, this is fine” was very quick, and very at odds with how she was struggling.

She was still as a trembling statue for who knew how long, and her eyes had become unfocused. Maybe this was too much. Maybe they should have gone to a heated pool instead, where the water didn’t stretch far out into the horizon, and the bottom was where the depth markers said it would be.

An idea struck him.

“Hey, you know what we can try?”

Her eyes swung to him, and there was a plea in them that she didn’t seem capable of putting into words.

“Do you want to just sit in the boat for now? It won’t be cold there.”

She was already shaking her head before he even finished, and so he continued.

“We won’t go out. We’ll leave it tied to the dock.”

She was still shaking her head.

“It’ll be safe, Rey. I’ll be right there with you.”

She looked at the boat. “You won’t let me fall into the water?”

“I promise you’re as wet now as you’re ever going to be.”

The way her eyes shot right back to his made him realize just how weird that sounded, but at least that distracted her enough to huff in amusement. She mumbled something that he didn’t catch.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. All right, I guess we can try that.”

“We can just… I don’t know… talk. That should keep your mind off of it a little. Let your subconscious process on the side.”

She huffed again, but motioned for him to start walking. He was so aware of her hand in his as they made their way back to shore, and for some reason, it stayed in his hand even as they walked barefoot down the dock. He didn’t like how he had to let go of it to step into his boat, but it was there again as he helped her in.

Or tried to.

“Ben—Ben, this is—are you sure—?”

She already had one foot in, but everything in her seemed to automatically resist, and the longer she did, the worse her legs wobbled. And maybe he shouldn’t have tugged on her, because in the next moment she was tumbling into the boat, and everything was just shaking, and he was sure he was about to break the promise he just made not to have her fall in, and she was shrieking—

But by the perverse grace of some forgotten deity, the boat didn’t capsize, and instead he landed his ass right on the seat, and she landed right between his splayed knees, her face planted on his chest. He’d smacked his elbow on the side of the boat, but he managed to find a handhold through the wash of pain. His other hand clutched her to him, and as the boat slowly stopped rocking and her shrieking quieted down, he found that she’d wrapped her arms around him.

“Rey—Rey—fucking gods—are you okay?”

“Are you trying to kill me, Ben Solo?” was what he thought she wailed against his shirt.

His hand—was it a traitor or his best friend?—was running itself up and down her back, brushing against the end of her low ponytail on every upstroke, but she didn’t seem to hate it, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop the motion because she was still trembling against him, and her strong arms were once again a vice around him.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

She wouldn’t look up at him, and he hoped she wasn’t crying. The thought that he’d made her cry with his stupid persistence was too much.

“I’m so sorry, Rey. I’m making this even harder for you.”

Against his jaw, she shook her head.

“Just give me a moment. Don’t move.”

He gave her all the time that she needed, and it was all the time that he wanted, too, just holding her close. It felt so damn good, even under the blanket of his guilt. She was soft and strong and smelled like shampoo and sunshine.

And then she was pulling away and awkwardly finding her seat across from his. And he was a selfish, selfish man, because he wanted to plant kisses on her face to chase away that awful, scared expression. She was wound so tight around herself, her knees pulled in and her shoulders stiff, her chin stuck to her chest. She didn’t seem to know where to put her hands, and they fidgeted in her lap uselessly.

And so he leaned forward and took each of them in his, unfurled her fingers and brought them to her sides, and he let them find purchase around the edge of the seat. He reached under his own and pulled out the plastic bag in which he’d stuck the towel and shirts, and bent forward to wrap her wet feet in the towel. Then he brought his legs together and cradled hers against the insides of his knees. He wanted to wrap himself around her, but this was the next best thing.

“You’re terrified now, but it won’t last. See, you’re in the water already, and you’re okay.”

She shook her head. This was going to take a while, but he was going to be the most patient… the most patient… What was he? Was he her friend?

Her hand came forward, seeking. As he took it, he found he didn’t care much right now just what he was.

“Talk to me, Ben. You said we’d talk.”

“What should we talk about?”

“I don’t know. Just talk.”

“Okay. Then… I’ve been wondering why you didn’t ask your friends to do this with you.”

“Oh. Well… Finn isn’t much of a swimmer, either, and Rose helps out at their family business most of her free days. You know… Tico’s.”

“As in… root beer?”

“Yeah. Tiny business, so all hands on deck. They want to keep it small. Sometimes she goes with their truck when they deliver to your dad’s. You’ve never seen her?”

“Huh. I don’t remember. But Dad’s the one who handles all that.”

“And you’ve only been back a few weeks.”

The question burned in the back of his throat, and so he asked, “What about—what about Dameron?”

She looked confused. “I wouldn’t ask him.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not... I mean we’re friends, but he’s more Finn’s buddy. And he’s gone to Coruscant. More opportunities there for what he wants to do with his music.”

He didn’t want to examine too deeply the feeling of relief that welled inside him.

She sighed. “I miss them a lot, even though we still see each other a few times a week. I think I told you before.”

“I remember. College and work.” He hoped she didn’t close herself off this time.

A rueful smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “To be honest, I feel a little like I’m being left behind. Finn and Rose are my best friends, and they see each other all the time in school.”

He was surprised at her candidness this time around. And emboldened by it enough to ask.

“So why aren’t you in there with them?”

She was silent for a moment, her thumb absently pressing into the back of his hand. Driving him just a little bit crazier.

“I guess the simplest answer is that I don’t have the time for it.”

She wasn’t responding to his raised eyebrow, so he asked outright, “Why?”

“My uncle took me in, and now it’s kind of my turn to care for him.”

But he couldn’t bring himself to ask about her parents. That would cut too deep. And so he settled with, “Do you mean he’s sick?”

“Well… he lost his arm in an accident a long time ago. Before I came here, actually, but he’s… let’s just say he’s set in his ways, so he didn’t like therapy. Thing is, these days his leg acts up. He’s got horrible arthritis. And—I think I told you this—COPD.” She sighed. “That’s too much to deal with on his own. He gets disability, but he doesn’t want to leave the house anymore, so I kind of have to run his errands for him and keep house.”

He could only stare at her. She was so young, and she couldn’t even break away and chase her own dreams. Did she even have them?

She chuckled. “I see the way you’re looking at me, Ben. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“What?”

“You’re feeling bad for me. Look, I know that face since I’ve seen it too many times. Ever since I came to this place, everybody’s tried to make me out to be some… some tragic character. Even your parents do it, you know. But… please don’t.”

“I wasn’t.” He wasn’t, was he? “I don’t think I know you well enough to even make that kind of judgment.”

She laughed. “That hasn’t stopped other people. Really, everybody’s got their own thing to deal with. I’m sure you do, too. But I’m a pretty happy person, you know.”

“So you are.” He smiled back at her.

She squeezed his hand.

“So… is it my turn to ask?”

He guessed it was, and it seemed this conversation was doing a good job of making her forget she wasn’t on solid ground.

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hmm… Okay, I’ve got it. Why aren’t you in First Order Uni right now? I’ve been wondering.”

 _Ouch_. She just went straight for the hard stuff, and he was completely unprepared.

“So I guess that’s one thing Dad didn’t tell you.”

“No. You just popped back in town after being gone for ages.”

He sighed. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be asking him for help with anything. She’d want to run far away from him, more likely. And he wasn’t ready to lose whatever this was.

He pulled his legs to himself, and his hand away from hers.

“Hey, we can talk about something else.” Now it was her trying to comfort him.

But what was the point if she was going to find out anyway sometime in the future? Because this wasn’t the kind of thing he could keep from her if he wanted to earn her… friendship.

“Rey, if I tell you…” He gulped. This was too hard. “It was a mistake. I don’t think—I don’t think I’d have done it if I—just—”

“I’m sure it was, Ben. You don’t have to tell me.”

This was so different from how his mom and dad found out, because even though it couldn’t have been kept a secret from them, he knew back then that they wouldn’t cast him off. They were his parents, and they loved him. But Rey… would she recoil from him? Would she never want to see him again? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“My course advisor… I was one of his favorites. I didn’t ask for it, but Snoke liked me. There was always whispers about him, but I thought, you know, it’s none of my business. I just wanted to get away from here and finish on time… find a job in the city. And it wasn’t like he made passes at me or whatever. But then my classmate, Hux… he was doing good, but not as well as his dad wanted, I guess, and his dad was like this… big-time alumnus. Wanted Hux to inherit the family business, and all that.”

He had to look away from her eyes before he got to the worst part.

“We kind of just hated each other. And I found out that he’d been going around telling people that I’d… that I’d been doing things with Snoke for my grades. I mean fuck that, right? That was vile, but it was just words—not like I’m not used to bullshit thrown at me. And then—and then one evening while we were going over this paper, Snoke actually—he—”

The memory of that hand on his shoulder and that foul mouth so close to his ear—and those _words_ —from behind him made bile rise up his throat, and his breath sawed out of his lungs. Rey leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his wrist.

“It didn’t go far, not more than that one touch, really. After all this time without any of that, he just… I felt so fucking filthy, you know? I mean I wasn’t even sure I believed what they were saying before about him. So I go out to drink because I couldn’t fucking believe what he’d tried to do, and I didn’t know what to do about it. And I get smashed. I don’t even drink, and I get totally smashed that one time. And Hux was there, and he just came up to me with his stupid shit, telling me he knew, and I just—I just saw red—”

“You hurt him.”

There was his shame, and he couldn’t bear it.

“I broke his nose and made half his face swell up. Bruised his ribs pretty bad. He was—he was this skinny dude, and there wasn’t a lot of fight in him—”

He pressed his closed fist against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I would have been withdrawn, and Hux’s family threatened to sue, but my mom—she knows people. And I guess more people hated Hux than they hated me. There were witnesses, from that night and just… throughout the last semesters, when he’d been spreading those lies about me. And Snoke—he disappeared after leaving a resignation letter. First Order didn’t want it to get bigger, so… I’m out for the semester. So… that’s that.”

On the dark canvas of his closed eyelids, the memories painted themselves in painful strokes. Over and over, just a curse that looped around itself. Why was he back in this hell?

Soft but strong hands pulled his own away from his face, and then she was wrapping herself around him.

“Ben. Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry I asked. I didn’t mean for you to hurt again.”

And there was pain in her cracking voice, too, like she cared about him. And he didn’t want to deny himself her comfort anymore, and so he opened himself around her, too, and let her in even closer.

“Maybe I should be in jail, Rey… not here with Mom and Dad.” _And you._

“Things will be better. I know you didn’t want any of that to happen. You can feel sorry in jail, but you can do the same out here. And… I’m sorry, but I’m glad—” at this, her arms tightened around him “—that you got to come home.”

He wanted so badly to believe her. Nothing was going to make him forget, or stop being sorry, but having her with him like this… it made it a little better.

It felt like their rhythms—heartbeats and breaths—had synced, and the stillness of the moment lasted an eternity.

But then she had to ruin it by mumbling against his shoulder—

“I’m getting hungry.”

He laughed out loud as they broke apart, but the humor didn’t completely dispel the awareness that hung in the air between them. This new thing made their glances slide over each other but never actually meet. He ran his hand through his hair because he didn’t know what to do with it. But with her comment, did she mean that their time together was at an end?

“I didn’t bring any food with me. Do you—do you want to go home already?” Gods, he hoped not.

“No!” Her instant denial made his heart sing. “I brought sandwiches. It’s the least I could do. But it’s nothing fancy, just—just tuna and mayo. Is that okay with you?”

He would eat dirt slapped onto more dirt if it meant he could stay here longer with her, but he only said, “Sounds good.” And it wasn’t even a lie.

“I have them in my bag though.” Which she’d left on the shore.

“Right, I’ll get it.”

He made to stand up, but she cried out—

“Wait! Are you going to leave me here? By myself?”

“You’ll be fine, Rey.”

Her mouth worked, until finally, she managed, “Okay. Just hurry.”

This was progress.

He stepped out of his boat, careful that he didn’t make it move so much, and then he jogged to where her bag was. The thing was heavier than he expected when he lifted it.

“Do you have rocks in here or what?” he asked as he made his way back.

He handed her the bag before slipping into the boat again, and he watched as she dug out a plastic container. This time, he managed to hold his size comment in when he saw it had at least six sandwiches inside, wrapped in paper towels, but a smile still escaped.

“Shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to give you just two. Believe me, four isn’t a challenge for me.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

When she took out her giant bottle—and this time, there were two plastic glasses with it—she told him, “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just brought tea again. I hope this is okay.”

“If you keep making me drink it, it’ll grow on me.”

She looked at him for a long moment and said nothing, but her eyes were soft.

“What?”

“Nothing.” And then she bit into her sandwich.

Anyone who saw them would think they looked funny as they had their sandwiches in a moored boat, but Ben couldn’t recall a time in recent memory that he’d had this sense of utter peace, just watching Rey eat and talking with her about his favorite fantasy movie trilogy—she’d asked—and hearing her lament about a sci-fi show that got cancelled too soon. It felt like a picnic, but instead of being lakeside, it was more… lake-top.

But when he had to check himself before suggesting they watch the show together, his enjoyment dimmed a little.

How often could they even do this? And even if they had the time, just where would they watch a show together? She’d made it clear that visitors weren’t welcome at her uncle’s house, and the thought of having her in his room…

She must have noticed that he’d gone inwards, because she balled the paper towel in her hand and then touched his knee.

“You were right. Just being here and talking… it’s helping, I think.” She looked over the side of the boat.

She’d been making progress, and the thought made him happy. He was helping her with something so important, and he found he didn’t want this to end just yet. And so he decided to risk it.

“Rey. I’m going to untie this boat.” As he did just that, and through the blooming worry on her face, he continued, “We won’t go far. Just in circles right here. What did I promise you?”

She dug her fingers on his bare knee. But she answered, “You promised you’d help me.”

“What else?”

“That—that you won’t let me fall in.”

“That’s right. You’re safe with me. Do you believe me?”

She nodded.

“You can close your eyes if you want.” Maybe that would be better for him, too, because her eyes… they just did things to him.

In slow, measured strokes, he pulled away from the dock, and even though the motion was smooth, her breathing went the other way.

She had her eyes closed tight, and then she said, “Maybe we shouldn’t have eaten after all. Ben—”

He reassured her in a voice as even as the oars dipping into the water that they weren’t far from the shore, and he told her just why he loved the water. He told her how he came here to think, and how he loved the quiet, and how everywhere his eyes looked, there was something beautiful to see. He told her how sometimes it almost seemed like the lake was his only friend, and how he felt so safe here, just himself, and how the lake wouldn’t hate him for the stupid things that sometimes came out of his mouth.

And in the telling, he wondered if he was doing it for Rey or for himself, just baring his soul out, and for once, having someone hear him.

Having someone really see him, because she’d opened those eyes that had known him forever.

“You’re so much braver than I could ever be, Rey. I mean look at you. You’re in the water right now, trying to get over this.” He huffed. “And I come here to escape.”

And then she asked him, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you feel like you have to hide from other people? You’ve been good to me.”

This girl… she really didn’t know, and it made him smile.

“You make it easy.”

They went in circles a few more times, until even he felt somewhat woozy. When they got back to the dock, she sunk down to her hands and knees and kissed the weathered wood. Silly girl.

He helped her up, and her hands stayed on his arms.

Her eyes were serious again as she looked up at him.

“You just… you don’t know. This means a lot to me, Ben. Thank you.”

“If—if you want to do this again, just let me know. I don’t think we’re done.”

She smiled. “We’re not done.”

“Text me if you want to talk. Or whatever. Just… text me.”

“You’re a good friend, you know?”

A… good friend. He'd take it. It was more than he could have expected. Much more than he deserved from this wonderful person.

And then there was a look in her eyes, and she was tugging him down and going up to the very tips of her bare toes. And then she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Before he could wrap his mind around what happened, she was off gathering her things, her movements jerky. He swayed where he stood, but she wouldn’t look at him again.

“I’ll see you on Friday!” he heard her say through the haze that seemed to muffle everything but the lingering sensation of her kiss.

And then she was gone.

He let his knees give away, and he laid on his back. He was too full, and expanding even more, just these feelings that he couldn’t contain. The sun beat down on his face and his closed eyes, but it couldn’t have made him any warmer than he already felt. And on the pebbled beach of the lake that he loved where he’d just had the best day of his life, Ben Solo threw his arm over his eyes and laughed.

 

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be just one scene out of a few I'd planned for this chapter, but it ate too many sandwiches. Whoops. Thank you for staying on! :)


	7. Chapter 7

*******

 

Ben floated on a cloud all the way home. Even though he could have used a few more hours of sleep, his insides wouldn’t settle down enough to do it. He rolled around in his bed and looped the events of the morning over and over in his mind. The image of Rey was burned on the back of his eyelids, and the feeling of her hands in his and her arms around him seared his skin. He felt like he was drunk on the remembered sensations. Drunk on her.

_She’d kissed him._

He swore he could still feel the press of her lips against the corner of his mouth, as fleeting as it had been. If it had lasted longer, maybe he would have moved his head and kissed her right back. Laid his own lips fully on hers. What would she have done? Would she have liked it? Would she have turned into a puddle in his arms the way he was certain he would have? Softened under him?

His face was getting hot from the fantasy, and he wondered just how his blood could be rushing in two different directions at once. He flipped onto his stomach and pressed his thickening length against his mattress, but it wasn’t enough. He dragged a pillow under him, desperate to relieve the ache. Now that he had the memory of that contact, he felt even more fevered for her.

And yet his mind wouldn’t stop at just kissing. They would have melted together right there on that pebbled beach, and he would have had her on her back. He wrapped his hand around himself as he thought of how he would have tasted more than just her lips. Her skin would have glowed under the sun as he counted every single freckle on her body with his tongue. Her moans would have wrapped around him, and her long, strong, beautiful legs would have kept him right where she needed him, right where he ached for her—

Just like that, he exploded in his hand, her name muffled against his sheets.

Oh, how she wrecked him. One barely-there kiss, and she had him like this.

Later, as he stood under the shower, it felt almost as if he was washing more than his spend off. Like the uncomfortable clarity of sobering up too soon after not drinking enough to get you totally smashed—it left him squeaky clean with a sheen of shame.

She’d told him he was a good friend. What if it had been nothing more than a friendly kiss? What if she’d been aiming for his cheek but missed because he was so high up? That would explain how she seemed in a rush to get away, and why she wouldn’t meet his eyes after. It must have embarrassed her that she’d kissed too close to his mouth when it hadn’t been her intention.

Yeah, it made sense.

There was a pang in his chest, but really, when he thought about it, it wasn’t like being her friend was some kind of second-best thing. It was pretty awesome, in fact. She’d opened herself up to him, showed him her soft insides, where she hurt, and asked him to help her. Him, and no one else. Him, when she had other friends, friends that she’d had for so much longer. That was pretty special, wasn’t it? That meant she trusted him.

And having someone trust him like this… it was an entirely unfamiliar feeling. He’d gotten so used to driving people away with his words, with his desperate need for isolation and quiet. People had always kept their distance when it came to things more personal than course requirements, and he couldn’t complain, really, because that was how he’d always liked it, anyway.

But Rey… she’d laid her fears on him, and he hadn’t realized just how empowering it felt to be needed. There was nothing in him that balked, or wanted to run away, or even hesitated a little bit when she’d asked him. He’d wanted—no, he’d been downright _eager_ to do this for her, like there had been an answering need in him to make things better for this person. And she’d been grateful afterwards, which only meant that he’d been successful in some way.

This was what friendship was all about. This was what he’d been missing out on all these years, with all the people that had come and gone in his life.

Or was it just Rey?

Because he’d wanted to bare his soul out to her just as much, now that he thought about it. And he did just that, when he’d never confided in anyone quite the same way his whole life. His parents knew the details of what happened last February, but that was no more than relaying the facts of the matter. Whereas talking with Rey about it… his feelings had poured out—his anger, his shame, his regret—and she’d caught them all in her generous arms, and it actually felt like… relief, to have somebody else take them, even just for a little while. Something inside him had gotten better, just in the span of that short time with her.

If this was what being friends with Rey was like, then it was absolutely golden.

Anything else after that—well, he could dream, but it was no loss. No loss at all.

 

*******

 

The peaceful feeling must have showed on his face too much at work later that night because Han kept shooting him curious glances.

“Don’t you just look chipper tonight?” his dad finally asked through the window. “You feed Ben anything funny, Chewie?”

Chewie looked at Han and shook his head hard. Ben swore there was guilt in there, and he knew exactly where it stemmed from.

“Shht.”

Ben smiled. “I know about the brownies, Chewie. I won’t be asking for any, don’t worry.”

“Dunno what you mean.” All of Chewie’s focus seemed taken up again by the sizzling pan in front of him.

Before he’d left for university, it hadn’t taken Ben long to figure out the reason Han, Chewie and their poker friends—and sometimes even Leia—laughed so much over the same tired old stories on game nights. The every-few-Sundays ritual had persisted even over the past few weeks, and it had been just another reason Ben was grateful he was now sleeping over the Falcon and not in the house where he might be roped into playing with them, now that he was “all grown up.” It was just not his thing, but he wasn’t about to judge any of them for their choice of entertainment. Besides, he didn’t know how to play.

“You better not, kid. Not in here.”

Ben found the threat in Han’s voice hilarious, for some reason, and he laughed.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Dad.”

Han only narrowed his eyes even more.

“What’s wrong with him?” This, he directed to Chewie. “Why’s he so bubbly?”

That made Chewie look at him, too. “No idea. Why _are_ you so happy, Ben?”

Ben sighed, but that didn’t chase away the smile on his face. “Come on, Dad. You rag on me when I’m in a bad mood, and you do it when I’m not. There’s no pleasing you.”

“Happy sass, huh. Well, that’s new. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is about a girl.”

“Ooh, is it, Benny? Who is it? Anyone we know?” Chewie wiggled his hairy eyebrows as he took the bowl Ben had just ladled rice into.

Great. Now they were tag-teaming him.

“Tsk. You’ve got a narrow view of life if you think that’s the only… Stop it.”

It _was_ about a girl, but it wasn’t like they were thinking. Rey was turning out to be a great friend. But the half-lie only made his face even more elastic, and Han and Chewie’s attention was making it even worse.

“Whills’ will, it is.” Han’s jaw went slack for a second.

Ben would have felt offended at the disbelief in that utterance because he knew just what was running through his dad’s mind— _Ben with a girl?_ —but he’d have found the thought just as ridiculous, too, any other time.

And then Han leaned forward and crooked a finger at Ben. His voice went low. “Look … we haven’t talked about it, but you’re a smart kid. So all I’ll say is don’t forget to use protection.”

“Oh, come off it, Dad!” He slammed the bowl in front of Han, and that had his dad moving away from the window, thankfully, to hand the order to a customer.

The rest of the night, he bit his lips hard to keep his smile in.

 

*******

 

He came to the conclusion that the yearning he had to talk with her again—in any way he could—was justifiable within the bounds of their friendship. He didn’t know just what he wanted to talk about, and so he looked back at the things they’d shared that hadn’t required too many feelings spilling. He figured it would be okay to text her, and by the next night, as he relaxed after work, he managed to find the words.

_< Hey, Rey. Do you like reading? _

When she hadn’t replied after five minutes—five minutes of staring hard at the screen, pressing on it every few seconds so it wouldn’t go dark—he realized with dismay that he’d forgotten to consider the time again. She seemed like an early riser, as evidenced by that morning walk he’d caught her on when he went to her place, so in all likelihood, she went to bed early, too.

He typed up a hurried apology.

_< If you’re sleeping, sorry! No need to reply. Good night. :) _

He’d even added a smiley at the end. A _smiley_. Gods, he was fucking terrible at this.

But then his phone vibrated.

_> hey ben, it’s okay_

_> i want to say i do just to impress you but i'd be lying, haha _

_It’s okay_ … what did that mean? Had he actually woken her up?

_< Did I wake you up???_

Was he being a pest? He squeezed the bridge of his nose as he waited for her reply.

_> it's fine rly… i’m not the biggest reader to answer ur question _

_> but do comics count? _

He smiled. In his old room, he had a decent-sized collection of _Sun Blade Paladins_.

_< Sure. :) Which do you read? _

_> my friend rose got me into seventh shadow_

_Seventh Shadow of the Hidden Forest?_ He felt his face heat up. So she was into woodland warrior stuff. He hadn’t been far off at all.

_> there’s others but that’s prob my fave_

_> i still read weekly updates online but the storys gotten convoluted_

_> i know, i know_

What? He’d followed that one, too, before he’d gotten eaten up by coursework and rowing.

_< What? _

_> don't judge me haha_

He chuckled at her defensiveness.

_< I read all the stuff before the timeskip. And all his earlier work. It’s funny you think you can out-nerd me. :)_

_> oh i don’t think that at all ;) _

Her reply had him dying a little inside. Great. So she did think he was a great big nerd. Why did he have to say that?

_> still here? _

_> i’m not saying sorry for that _

_> i might not outnerd u _

_> but i’m only a comic/game/show or 2 behind _

He hoped she didn’t really think she’d offended him.

_< Doubt it. You can prove it once I come up with a poser-shredding quiz. _

_> sorry i meant 200 ;) _

Gods, she made him laugh.

_> but gatekeeping isn’t a good look on you solo :P _

There’d been a time he watched cuttlefish videos for days on end. That was what this conversation reminded him of—flashing on and off like that magnificent creature reacting to a potential mate or prey, but in his case, it was flashing hot and hotter inside. With embarrassment and… other things.

_< I was only kidding, anyway. _

_> i know eh :)_

_> but why were u asking bout reading? _

He was grateful she’d changed the subject, and he jumped on getting back to what he wanted to ask her. When they were at the lake, she’d mentioned a show that didn’t get renewed.

_< You said you liked Analogue, so I wondered if you’d like reading an anthology of scifi shorts. No pressure, though. _

_> that could be nice :)_

Was she just being polite? Did she really want to read it? Whichever the case, she seemed willing enough to try it.

_< Great. :) I’ll hand it to you on Friday. You’ll be here, right? _

_> wouldn’t miss your shorts for anything _

_> Go back to sleep. :)_

_> haha. good nyt ben :) _

_> wait_

_> are we meeting at the lake on sat?_

When they last met, they’d agreed they weren’t done, and he was glad she brought it up because he didn’t know how he would have asked about it.

_< I hope so. _

_> ok great :)_

_< Night, Rey! :) _

He couldn’t wait for Friday. And on Saturday… this time, he’d try to be more prepared. Maybe she’d be ready to actually get in the water by then. His old kickboards were probably still somewhere in the house. Saturday would be glorious, just the two of them and the lake. He felt like he could float right off his bed.

But his phone vibrated again—

_> xxx _

Holy fucking hells. Those were… those were kisses, weren’t they? Just what did she mean with those? How was he supposed to respond to that? But before he could think of what to say, she sent another message.

_> sorry force of habit + sleepy_

_> that’s how rose n finn n i sign off _

_> good nyt again ben :D _

Oh. He really should stop feeling disappointed over his one-sided expectations. Or he could get into masochism, maybe. He fired off a reply so she wouldn’t feel so awkward.

_> OK. I was about to ask you to clarify if you’d meant xxx comics or xxx books. _

Oh, gods, he really did send that. Oh, gods. And then—

_> not judging you either ;) _

Oh, great gods… just strike him down.

 

*******

 

He didn’t want to bombard her with texts, and so he held off on that front and tried to be patient because he’d be seeing her soon enough, anyway. And it seemed more and more a wise decision as Thursday crawled by because she hadn’t texted him, either, and he didn’t want to come off as too needy. But he couldn’t help being disappointed.

Han and Chewie hadn’t stopped bugging him since Tuesday night, and by Friday the armor of peace he’d found was fully worn out, and his temporary supply of “happy sass” was on its more natural state of empty.

And so when he finally saw her settling into her seat after about the hundredth time looking through the service window, he was more than a little relieved. And it seemed he’d gotten a few pointers in masochism, after all, because he hadn’t rushed out as soon as he saw her when that was exactly what every cell in his body was hurting to do. The smile he offered her through the window felt a little pained, and maybe his emotions made their way to her across the distance because he could almost swear her smile was just as pinched.

He let Han do all the talking, but it lightened his heart a little that she kept her eyes on him the whole time.

“So do you want to try something different again, or will you be having Ben’s chicken like last time?”

Gods, did his dad have to phrase it that way? Even from where he was, he could see how her cheeks colored, and she let out a nervous laugh.

“Ben’s chicken, please.”

“It’s really growing on you, huh?”

“Yep,” was all she said.

Han swivelled his head around, and Ben just about jumped back.

“You heard the lady. She wants Ben’s chicken.”

Did his dad have a _look_ in his eyes?

As he made the food for her, he wondered if Han meant anything with how he phrased the whole thing. His dad had always been sharp, and if it concerned his own son and his favorite customer… he’d be watching like a hawk. And then Ben realized that there was no need to worry because he wasn’t doing anything questionable. He and Rey were friends, and there was nothing wrong with that. If Han misunderstood, that was his problem.

This little pep talk gave him the courage to walk out the kitchen and serve the food to Rey himself. And actually grab Han’s stool and sit right in front of her. It must have shocked Han thoroughly because he’d gone quiet. But he could still feel the weight of his stare. With Rey in front of him, though, it wasn’t hard to ignore it. He pulled the bandana off his head and stuffed it into his pocket. Ran his hand over his flattened hair.

“Hey.”

“Ben.”

He would never tire of her smile, he was sure. Or her eyes.

“Go on and eat. Had a good day?” he asked.

She sighed around the first bite, and he noticed for the first time how the grooves under her eyes were a little deeper and darker than usual. But there was still a little smile there. He waited as she chewed and swallowed.

“It’s been a long day. I’m just happy to be here now.”

He was happy, too, he wanted to tell her. But all he said was, “Oh? Busy day?”

“Yeah. We’re setting up a booth for the crafts fair tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. I think I heard Mom mention that. I didn’t know you guys would be there.”

He wished he could watch her face in slow motion. Every subtle curl of her brow, every flutter of her eyelids, every little motion of her chin as she chewed or talked… there were too many things to look at, and it was hard to choose which to focus on.

“You know my boss, Maz? Well, she paints, and there’s also… also other stuff.”

“Huh. So will you be manning the booth?”

She gave another big sigh.

“Yeah, that’s the thing, Ben…”

Oh, no. He didn’t like the sound of that because it sounded very much like it was going to have something to do with their time at the lake tomorrow.

“You can’t make it tomorrow?”

Her eyes were round with sorrow as she shook her head.

His heart fell.

“We start early. I’ll have to be there at eight-thirty so everything’s ready by nine. And it’ll be all day. At least I can go home earlier.” She rubbed her eyes. “But I still have stuff to do tonight, too. I’m so sorry, Ben.”

At least he got to see her tonight. He didn’t want her feeling bad in the little time they had. He drummed a little beat on the counter in front of him with his index fingers.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? We can try another day.”

“I should have warned you. The initial plan was Jess would man tomorrow, and then me on Sunday. But there’s like a family emergency so she can’t make it. So I’m working all weekend.”

He tapped her elbow. Really, he wanted to run his hands up and down her arms and soothe away the fatigue on her face, but that was obviously not going to happen.

“It isn’t a fixed schedule, Rey. I know you want to win a triathlon already, but what’s a few more days? You’ve already got the biking part down—maybe even the running, I don’t know…”

She chuckled, and the worried glaze over her eyes disappeared for a little while. Dear gods… he made her laugh with a little joke. Where had that even come from? Maybe spending so much time with Han in here was activating the Solo wit genes he thought he’d never inherited.

He continued. “Just focus on what you need to do for tomorrow. It’s a crafts fair. It’s going to be nice.”

“You’re nice.”

She seemed just as surprised at her absently-spoken words as he was because for a split-second her eyes grew wide, and in the next moment she dropped her gaze to her bowl of food. Fuck, she was adorable. He wanted to feel if those pink blooms on her cheeks were as warm as he suspected.

They talked about the things that were likely going to be at the fair, and it was unfortunate that she was a fast eater because too soon, she was wiping her lips with a napkin. He wished so bad that she could stay longer, but she had an early morning the next day. And so he could do nothing but rise with her as she got up off her own stool, and then they were saying good night. When she was gone, he sat back down.

“So…” Han’s voice from behind him broke through his thoughts. “Rey, huh?”

Of course he knew just what this was. He sighed. “We’re friends.” But his eyes were still fixed on that spot in the distance where she’d disappeared.

“Mm. Great girl. I didn’t know you two had gotten so chummy.”

“Yeah, well…” He couldn’t really say much more than that.

He was surprised Han didn’t press. And even more surprised that his dad ruffled his hair, and not in the teasing or annoying way he would have expected. Just a pat, and then a little rub, and then the hand was gone.

“Now get back in the kitchen.”

He huffed. “Yessir.”

There was a downside to being friends with such a lovely person, he realized as he cleaned up the things she’d used. You thought you missed her through the long in-between times, but really, that was nothing compared to the gaping hole she left in the happiness she just filled you with as soon as she was gone.

 

*******

 

The first thing that popped into his head the next day when he woke up was that he could go to the crafts fair. Last night, as he lay in bed, he’d remembered that he’d told Rey he would lend her his book, but it had slipped his mind. And when he texted her about it, she said he could just give it to her on Tuesday, and that had been that.

She hadn’t invited him, exactly, likely because she’d be too busy working. But then it was a crafts fair, and if he couldn’t hang around at her booth, he could just look around for a while. His mom would be there, too, at some point, so maybe he could grab lunch with her. If he couldn’t with Rey first.

Shit, he’d be so transparent.

But the idea wouldn’t budge, and by eleven, he was more or less decided.

He hadn’t been to the arts center in a long time, and the guilt that wrapped around his heart and spilled into his veins over concerts he’d refused to attend was as familiar and as reliable as an old friend. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go anywhere near the auditorium.

Around the huge centerpiece statue, booths were neatly—if maybe too closely—spaced, bedecked with colorful banners, each one brighter than the next, hawking all sorts of handmade crafts. The fair was bigger than he’d expected, and he saw some signs that told him a few of the neighboring towns were participating as well. Under the skylight of the atrium, the air was filled with the buzz of excited conversation and pockets of aromas that emanated from both food and scent booths.

He felt like he could choke.

He clearly hadn’t thought this through, and now he was absolutely certain he would come upon someone he knew. There were too many people, and he knew—he just _knew_ —how much he stood out, with his size and his dark clothes amidst the rainbow that had exploded in here. And this place…

_Rey._

He had to find her, give her the damned book, and then he could get out of here.

He walked past booth after dizzying booth, trying his damnedest not to meet anyone’s eyes or to smack into them. One booth drew his eyes, and he snorted as soon as he realized just why—holy tits all over the place! Abstract but unmistakable in more than a few of them, in rough lines that made the shapes stand out in stark relief. And as he looked at them—

“Ben!” Rey squeaked from behind the canvases. “What are you doing here?”

 _This_ was her booth?

She jumped out and stood in front of it, and at the sight of her, all thoughts of any female form other than the one in front of him melted away.

“Hey. I thought—I thought I should come and… the book I told you about—well, here—“

He lifted the book to her, and for a moment they both looked at it like the ridiculous excuse that it was. She took it from him.

“Thanks. I just... didn’t expect you here.”

“Yeah, me neither. I mean I hadn’t planned on coming. Not that I didn’t want to see you—”

His mouth. His mouth was doing it again.

He chomped on his lips and tried to focus.

“So… big fair.”

“Yeah. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Your booth’s really something, huh? No wonder you’re stressed out about the whole thing.”

“What? Oh, these? No, not at all. They’re great. We’ve had a few sales already.”

“I mean yeah, I can see why these would sell. They’re very… yeah. What else do you have, though?”

Somehow she seemed reluctant to step away from the table display, so he peeked around her.

And caught a tiny glint of light on familiar thick glasses.

“Oh, this is my boss. Maz, this is—”

“Ben Solo. I’ve had the pleasure.”

The voice was imperious, and its source was a shadow dislodging itself from the dimly-lit inside of the booth. Though the figure had clearly risen from a chair, he doubted the top of her head would have reached his sternum.

The memory of the scolding he’d gotten from this dragon of a lady all those years ago had him gulping like the guilty kid he’d been back then. He suddenly wondered what happened to that employee who hadn’t carded him for those smokes.

“Hi. Yeah, I’m—nice to see you again, Miss Kanata.”

“Is it?” If dragons could smile, it would look exactly like the face she made at him. “Just Maz is fine. Does your mother know you’re here?”

Oh, gods. The way she said that… but no. There wasn’t anything to be guilty of this time. He was just here to see Rey.

He shook his head. “Oh, n-no, I hadn’t told her.”

The tiny old lady adjusted her glasses as she peered at him.

“So you’re here to buy a painting? No? It’s Rey and her work, then.”

Her _work?_ Were some of these paintings Rey’s? No…

In his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Rey stiffening, and when he looked at her, her eyes were fixed on his chest.

“Right here.” Maz reached across the table and pulled Rey to the side. “These are all hers.”

And then he saw.

Not titillating anatomy, but rows upon neat rows of whittled little wooden figures, in different tints and shades. Beetles and squirrels, owls and raccoons and turtles. The heads of gnomes, each smiling a different way from the others. A mermaid with her tail whipping saucily. A fairy curled around a mushroom, asleep.

Maz went on, “My paintings haven’t scared all of them away, thankfully. Wasn’t that last couple just something, Rey? Took all the dogs. Every single one of them.”

And then in a little clump of maybe four or five that seemed so out of place against the woodland and sea critters—

Boats. The shells shaped simply, but the outer hulls covered with intricate curling lines or sharp geometric patterns. He picked one up in disbelief and traced the textures with his thumb.

“Oh, those are new. Gorgeous, aren’t they? She’s done nothing but boats the past few weeks. Why do you look so surprised, Solo?”

He didn’t know if it was his lungs or heart that was trying harder to come out of his chest. _What did this mean?_

He looked at Rey. Her eyes were still fixed on his chest, and she had her lips clamped tight between her teeth. She was so still.

“You seem to like that one. Take it. Prophets know your mother’s done so much for me already. Rey, are you all right?”

Rey seemed even more in a daze than him, but she managed a breathless “Ah… yes.”

Maz sighed. “I did tell you to leave earlier last night. But never mind that now—Solo, since you’re here already, go ahead and take her to lunch. Look at this girl, she’s out of it. Tsk. You young kids stay up all crazy hours, but this one doesn’t do well without a full night of sleep.” Rey opened her mouth, but Maz was ahead of her. “Hup, hup. I can manage. Just go.”

He wasn’t going to argue with Maz, and so he clamped his hand on Rey’s arm.

“See you, Maz. Oh… and thank you for the…” He held up Rey’s boat.

She only gestured for them to go, but there was that dragon smile again.

Rey stayed quiet as they walked away. He dropped his hand from her arm. He didn’t know what to say to her, either, but when they got far enough, he had to try.

“They’re very pretty. You’re really good.”

She gave a stiff nod.

He put the boat in his pocket because it was clear she wasn’t going to address it.

He tried something he was more confident she’d respond to. “So… what do you want to eat?”

Finally, a low “I’m not really hungry.”

He stopped walking. His presence here was clearly distressing her, and he wished he understood exactly why. More and more, it looked like the lack of an invitation hadn’t been an oversight on her part.

“Rey. Do you want me to go?”

That got her to look at him at last. Her eyes were pools of some emotion he wished he could decipher.

“No.”

He took her hand and started walking again. Past the booths, and all the way to the side of the big space. Up the long flight of stairs, down a hall and into an empty exhibition room on the second floor, all its surfaces painted white except for the glass windows that overlooked the atrium. There were no chairs, and so he sprawled on the floor, and she followed suit. She placed the book between them and then curled her arms around her knees. They both looked down into the fair area.

He pointed at something, and her eyes followed his finger.

“That’s my grandmother. Mom’s mom.”

The pale statue in the middle of everything was frozen in a flourish. The pose would have looked flamboyant on anyone else but Padme Amidala Skywalker. On her, it was the epitome of fine form, each perfectly captured line a graceful testament to not just her years of discipline under the strictest and most exacting Naboo teachers, but more to her defiant transcendence over the same.

Rey nodded her head. So she knew.

But he went on, “I never knew her. She died when my mom was born. Isn’t that just absolute shit?”

“Your mom never danced like her?”

“No. I guess she and my uncle took more after my granddad. Do you know, she would have been a world-famous concert pianist?”

He could feel her eyes on him.

“Oh? Why ‘would have been’? Did she stop?”

“She kind of had to. Dad got her knocked up.”

He knew his words came out perfectly even. There was no sense broadcasting anything else other than the facts.

“She didn’t continue after she had you?”

“No. I don’t really know why, frankly. She could have. Sometimes I do wonder.”

Sometimes he wondered too much his soul hurt. How Leia Skywalker could have soared. How in a different timeline, if she’d been freer for longer, the day might have come when her own name was painted across the skies, right next to her father’s. Like her brother’s was certain to be someday.

After a while, Rey’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Your mom is awesome. She’s the most badass woman I know. Well… her and Maz.”

“Mm.”

They sat in a silence that was finally comfortable and watched people bustle about below. It was strange, Ben thought, this quiet that was completely the opposite of isolated. Because he’d never felt more connected with anyone in his life. He didn’t even have to decode the mysteries her eyes held, or her secrets in the lines on the piece of wood that sat in his pocket, to know that it was the truth.

“There’s a heated pool by Zanzibar, across that big noodle place,” he told her when the silence had gone on long enough, “that you could try. When you’re ready for more.”

“Maybe. Look, there’s your mom.”

Was that a deflection? He wasn’t sure. Right now, it felt okay. It felt like they were in a bubble here like this, just the two of them, and they had all the time in the world, and fears and futures and reasons behind whittled wooden boats were a faraway thing that would be resolved when they were ready to be resolved.

He watched as Leia shook hands and touched cheeks with people all over the fair, each one snagging her as she went her way and monopolizing her attention for as long as they could. She always seemed like she was on her way to somewhere important, and that was likely the truth, and yet each stop looked like a satisfying conversation, and he realized that that satisfaction wasn’t one sided.

“Everybody loves her.” There was amusement in Rey’s observation.

After a while, Leia exited the area. There went his other excuse for staying. He hadn’t realized it would be this busy for her, so maybe that lunch thing was doomed from the beginning, after all. Even Rey had said no to eating.

“Ben.”

“Hm?”

“I should probably get back to Maz. I’ve been gone long enough.”

He didn’t want to let her go. But he suspected that feeling wasn’t going to change, no matter how long he managed to keep her with him.

“Okay.”

He was about to open the door when Rey stayed his hand. And then once again, as she’d done in the lake, she wrapped her arms around him. This time, when his own went around her, he squeezed her to him tight. Pressed his face against the top of her head and breathed her in.

They pulled apart after who knew how long and said nothing as they made their way down, back into the color and the noise and the smells. He stopped by a booth and bought them each a big beef wrap, and when he asked her if she wanted water, she told him she had her bottle of tea. Of course. He laughed. And then he made her promise she’d eat her wrap.

She walked him to the door, and they said their goodbyes.

He wished… he wished so many things as he looked at her.

But before he walked out, he knew he had to. He just _had_ to. At least this one thing, he could make true for himself.

And so he stepped up to her and leaned down in that perfectly awkward angle only he knew how to make, and his lips landed on her cheek on a firm press, right next to her ear.

“Let me know about Tuesday, Rey.”

And then he went out the door.

Her gasp and the look in her eyes were an absolute treat.

_Good. Let her think on that one, for once._

 

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This chapter went through a few restructures, but the good thing is the rearrangements and splits and rewrites means the next one might just come faster, haha. Also--and I truly apologize for this--there will be edits on Leia's name in the previous chapters, just because the story calls for a streamlining of her backstory. I'll say it here so you won't have to go back: it's just removing the "Organa" from her name. Again, I'm so sorry I didn't catch all that earlier on. And thank you, as always, for reading. :)


	8. Chapter 8

*******

 

 

In the entirety of Ben’s lifelong experience in overthinking, there hadn’t been a single thing that came close to testing his expertise quite like Rey Kenobi. The time at the crafts fair with her had been like one of those dreams where you felt you’d stayed an eternity just beholding the magnificent pulsating center of a galaxy: it seared itself into every atom of your dream body, but when you woke up, it was to its conversely dark after-image—that niggling feeling that you’d missed something important and had understood absolutely nothing of its mystery. The kind of dream that bothered you all day.

Rey bothered him, all right.

She hadn’t wanted him there. And then she’d held him tight before they went their own ways. She hadn’t talked about her whittling, hadn’t mentioned a single thing about it, which really bummed him out. Those little critters were made with an eye for detail and obvious care, and it was clearly an important part of her life. Why hadn’t she told him? But she’d made boats, and apparently _nothing but boats_ over the last few weeks, and he was sure that it was no coincidence that that had also been the span of their acquaintance. But then she hadn’t wanted to show him those damn boats.

She just fucking confused him.

All night he’d turned the one Maz let him have over and over in his hands, brushed his fingers—and his lips, although he’d take that to his grave—over the pretty lines and examined every inch of it, as if that would let him coax out whatever sliver of understanding he could of Rey. What had she been thinking when she made this? Did she imbue her strokes with any kind of feeling, and dare he hope, for him? Just what did it all _mean_?

It wasn’t like he could ask her about any of it over text. He wasn’t going to force her to tell him anything, but damn if he didn’t wish she would at least throw him a bone. But she hadn’t even messaged him once. And he’d bugged her enough, he knew.

He was obsessing so much about the whole thing, and the headache that punished him on and off over the weekend was probably his body’s way of telling him to cool it a little. And so by the time Sunday rolled around, he was more than grateful for the distraction of late dinner with his parents, after his mom came home from yet another busy day at the arts center where she helped facilitate closing down the two-day fair. Even then he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seen Rey today.

Over his dad’s pork chops and baked macaroni, and the sports drama movie that was on, he wondered for the millionth time—but this time hated himself for it, now that he had a better understanding of its context—about these two people who were well into their middle age, living their middling life in this small town, having a middling dinner in a middle-sized living room, grunting and chuckling every now and then at the very mediocre story playing on-screen.

There was nothing too terrible about the whole thing, and ordinarily, he would say he was sure lots of people would be more than grateful to have this unremarkable but secure life. But then there was nothing ordinary about Leia Skywalker, and if she’d kept on the path she set out on in her youth, she would have been performing before kings and queens and dining in state palaces instead of munching on greasy fried pork on a sofa that was almost as old as Ben. And yet here she was with her diner operator husband and her son who almost got kicked out of university. Glorious life, this was.

He thought—and he knew he shouldn’t get too ahead of himself here—of his feelings for Rey, and if his mom’s had been anything close to that, and if it had been reciprocated, then it was no wonder that being with Han all those years ago made her lose all sense. Obviously, it had been a two-way thing because here he was, and fuck if that didn’t skeeze him out. It must have been some grand passion.

None of that was evident now, though, as he looked at them—his dad with more grey than brown in his hair, and his mom in her wrinkled pantsuit, and everything else about them just as grey and rumpled. Where had it all gone? Were things always doomed to end up like this? Was this what waited for him, too?

It seemed Leia had gotten tired of the blandness on-screen as well because she suddenly turned her attention on him.

“Oh, honey, Maz told me earlier that you were at the fair yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

He took his time chewing and swallowing. “I thought you’d be busy. And you were. I saw you. It’s—it’s bigger than I thought it was gonna be.”

“I wish you’d said hi. It would have been nice if we had lunch.” She sighed. “But you’re right—I guess there wasn’t time. We’re starting with the June program prep, too, so that’s another thing. I swear it always feels like herding porgs starting out. I mean it comes out nice at the end, but… just hell on your nerves a good chunk of it.”

There was only about a month left in the semester, and Ben knew Leia’s department was getting ready for the semester-end concert. Over the last few years, when he was in university, this was something he at least hadn’t had to deal with. The reminder made his gut clench a little.

“So if you didn’t go there for your mom, why d’you go? Doesn’t seem like your kind of thing, crafts.”

Before he could think of what to say, his mom answered in a voice that was entirely too neutral.

“Maz said he was visiting Rey. Weren’t you, sweetie?”

Something crossed his dad’s eyes, but like his mom’s face, Han’s evened out in the next split-second.

Oh, gods, _they knew_. They might as well have set off firecrackers and blown trumpets. They were about to really get into it, and he wasn’t ready.

“Yeah? She had her stuff up there with Maz’s this year, too?” But Han seemed to address this solely to Leia.

Wait, his dad knew about Rey’s woodwork?

“Yes, and they’re really coming along—I had no idea! I just wish we had a program for it at the college already. I mentioned it I think last year to Gial, but I keep forgetting to follow up. Maybe I’ll remind him again.”

Huh. So even his mom knew, and she’d been trying to help get something started for Rey—or if not specifically because of her, still something that she could really do something with. That was a big deal. If there was a program like that at the college, would Rey have been interested in attending?

“I dunno, though,” Han said. “Would Plutt even let her?”

His mom scoffed. “ _Let_ her?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Who’s Plutt?” Ben asked.

His parents both looked at him.

“She never mentioned her uncle to you?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, she has. Kind of.” He grimaced. “Just—when I went to her house, she said he didn’t like having people over.”

“You went to Rey’s house?” The voice lost a little of its evenness and sounded more like the usual Han.

Oh, he’d done it. Here came the conclusion-jumping. But he took a page from their book and kept his own reply as neutral as he could make it.

“Yeah. I didn’t see him, though. We drove past the place a little bit.”

“You two have been driving around together? In your car?”

“No, Dad, it was just—it was the one—it’s hard to explain.”

“I can imagine.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

Leia cut them both off. “At least he didn’t chase you off with a machete.” She chuckled.

“I’d like to see him try,” his dad muttered. “I don’t think he’d be in any state to run after anybody these days.”

He wondered just how much his mom was exaggerating, and it must have shown on his face.

“Mm-hmm. The first time Rey’s friends tried to visit her—I’m not making this up, sweetie. Plutt thought they were trespassers because they went right in through the gate. You know how bold Poe can get. Especially with his little gang cheering him on.”

 _Fuckthatsonofabitch_ was what instantly came into Ben’s mind, and he gritted his teeth at yet another reminder of how friendly the ass had been with his mom, and even more at the idea that he’d visited Rey at her home. But before he could dwell on it, Han spoke up again.

“Sometimes I really do wonder how Rey’s related to that miserable boob. I guess the important thing is she had someone take her in. Doesn’t seem all the worse for it, too.”

Leia sighed. “That says more about her than anything else. She’s a wonderful girl.”

Ben had to agree. She was fucking amazing.

“I keep saying that kid’s too nice for her own good. And I’ve got a feeling he’s taking advantage. I haven’t asked Rey, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s paying all the bills. Guy gets disability, but you just know he’s the type—”

Huh. If that was true, it would explain a lot. She’d told him she was taking care of her uncle. He had no idea she was supporting him financially as well.

“Han.” His mom broke in with a firm voice, and Ben thought he saw her shake her head, a stiff little motion.

“Mm.” And then Han stopped talking and just narrowed his eyes at the TV and took a big bite of his pork chop. What was that?

And Ben thought that had been that, until—

“So Rey’s been making boats, huh? Have you taken her on a ride, sweetie?”

The sensation of bits of macaroni going through his nasal passages in an explosion of air wasn’t something he’d ever recommend anyone to experience, but at least it precluded him from having to reply. He gulped down his water as his eyes watered, and even as his mom patted his back, she went on talking.

“She even gave him one. Go and get it after dinner and show it to your dad—he’d want to see it. They’re really pretty. Tsk… I would have gotten one myself and not just the gnomes if I’d known she made them because of…”

And even though she cut herself off—this weird awareness between her and his dad, what the hell was it about?—he knew his name went at the end of that sentence. He wasn’t going to tell his mom that it was Maz that gave it to him after Rey froze because there was no point in correcting her. And as for her conclusion over the reason Rey made them—well, he’d been thinking the very same thing but hadn’t wanted to hope too much.

Later, when he showed the tiny boat to them, he had to swallow the funny feeling that he was exposing something secret—his? Rey’s?—and had to put his foot down when his dad said that maybe they could put it on display somewhere at the Falcon. And as Han prattled on about the possibility of commissioning Rey to make stuff for the diner, Ben wrapped his fingers around the precious piece of wood, just in case anyone got any ideas.

It was _his_. And no one else’s.

 

 

*******

 

 

When he woke up close to noon the next day, it was finally to a message from Rey, but he wished he hadn’t been so eager after all because reading it first thing ensured that the rest of his day was now somewhat ruined.

She couldn’t make it tomorrow.

Apparently, she had to drive her uncle to the doctor because his gout was flaring up. So that was two lake day rain checks already, and he was only too aware that his keen disappointment was entirely selfish. Rey had obligations, and he’d be a poor friend if he let this resentment fester.

He felt a little less guilty about despising her uncle, though, especially after everything he’d heard about the guy. Rey was a saint for putting up with him, and even more that through their acquaintance, short as it had been, she hadn’t complained about what Ben could only imagine as years and years of daily crap, if not outright mistreatment. He thought his days got bad enough when Han was being too much, but at least his dad loved him. And he could be honest with himself enough to admit that a lot of it was him being too reactive, too.

He hated thinking of Rey suffering and being taken advantage of—absolutely hated it, and just the very thought made his blood heat up—and he wished he knew how he could help. But she hadn’t really said much about it, hadn’t expressed anything about wanting or needing help, and he wasn’t going to insult her by asking as much.

And so he messaged back with _okays_ and _next times_ , and he went to the lake to forget things a little. But it only made him miss her more when he got there because now he had the images in his mind—made all the more vivid by his constant revisiting of them—of the times they had together there. And it didn’t help at all when his phone buzzed as he was drifting on the water and he found she’d sent him a fucking cat meme. The damn fluffy thing had huge eyes and a downcast mien, and over it was a cute apologetic caption. Even just that made his heart beat faster, and he laughed. And then she’d added her own message after.

_> I’m really sorry ben _

_> I promise I’ll make it up to you  _

Of course his mind went to all places with that last thing. He shook his head clear and sent a message back.

_< You look different. Did you do something with your hair? It looks more grey than I remember. _

And she replied with another image, but this time—this time—

He knew she was only trying to be funny, but she’d sent an image of herself, and he just about lost his mind. She was pouting the same silly way the cat had been, with her eyes just as big and just as sorry. Her hair looked wet and it seemed she hadn’t run a comb through it yet, and her skin was dewy. The collar of her blue shirt framed her pretty neck, and the top button was undone and revealed the shallow dip between her collar bones. Behind her, he could see a bed. So she’d just come out of the shower, and she was in her bedroom.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

Just like that, he was growing in his pants, and he was almost tempted to stroke himself right there in the open. He moaned. What was she doing to him?

He wasn’t going to send back his own selfie—gods, no—but he figured he owed her a pic, too, and so he took one of the empty seat right in front of him, with the lake shining behind it.

_> hmm you look different too _

_> ok ok I’m not even going to try :D_

_> but wow, it’s really pretty today _

It really was. So fucking pretty.

_< Thanks. I think it’s my new conditioner. _

Ouch. _Ouch_. That fell flat. Why did he do this to himself?

_> . . ._

_> oh so you know you’re pretty huh? that's just the worst ;) _

Maybe if he was actually pretty, he’d be braver about this whole thing with her. But where both his parents were good looking, he just looked like… well, okay at best. And he knew he shouldn’t generalize, but some people obviously had easier lives because of their looks. Dameron was a prime example. And the idiot knew it, too.

He sighed. He didn’t know what to follow that up with. He didn’t know what else he should say to her. _A few weeks ago, I saw a squirrel on my way here and its cheeks were just like yours. Sitting here reminds me of the boats you made. I wish you were here with me._ But he’d be insane to send her any of those.

His phone buzzed again.

_> ok ben, I gotta go to work_

_> talk to ya later :) _

He’d lost his chance.

_< OK, have fun at work! :)_

_< Hope your uncle gets better. _

He figured that last bit was the polite thing to say. And maybe if the guy was feeling any better, he’d be nicer to Rey. So it wasn’t a complete lie, what he’d said.

He rowed to her dock, laid down on it, and for the rest of his time there, he looked at her picture.

 

 

*******

He was restless all through work that night, and even the next day he couldn’t muster the energy to do much of anything. Waking up too early had been part of it, he was sure, but he couldn’t fall back into sleep. He didn’t feel like rowing because that only reminded him of his lost day with Rey. He got his current favorite game up, thinking he might try a new comp, but he couldn’t even focus enough to play a decent round, and so he watched as his little animated army got decimated over and over and his ranking drop a few levels. And he found that he didn’t care. And then he checked his email, found a new one from university and promptly closed the email client without reading it.

He missed her.

It had only been three days since he last saw her, and he knew that he was thinking about her too much and too often. He looked back at how he’d rolled his eyes at the other people his age when he thought they were being ridiculous with their crushes and their flirtations, and yet here he was, mooning over a girl in the worst way. It was quite the lesson in perspective. He figured he needed to get off his ass and find a more effective distraction.

He cleaned his car.

And then there was nothing else again because his room was already neat, he’d done his laundry two days ago, and even the Falcon was practically spotless. But then a small delivery truck came, and finally he had something to do.

As he helped unload and stack the glass bottle crates, he noticed his dad having an easy conversation with the young lady that came with the truck. The heavy black bangs looked kind of familiar, and then he realized that this must be Rey’s friend. What was her name again? Rose?

When his dad went inside for something, he decided there was no harm in talking to her.

“You’re Rose, aren’t you?”

She seemed surprised that he was speaking to her. Her tone, when she answered, was a little cool, but not entirely unfriendly.

“What’s up, Solo.”

Of course she knew him. He stuck his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what to do with them, and then he realized he didn’t know what to say to her.

He blurted out, “Were you at the fair over the weekend?”

When she looked at him like he’d said something weird, he realized his words might have come off like some kind of inquisition.

He went on, “I mean—you know, Rey had her booth there. I mean her stuff. At Maz’s booth.”

The weirded-out look was replaced with something else that was forcing itself into a neutral mask.

“Oh, yeah. We went on Sunday.” She smiled a little. “Rey’s things were almost all gone. She was really happy.”

He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Rey how it went after he left. But he wasn’t surprised she sold a lot, and he was glad for her.

“They’re great, yeah. Yeah. Uh, Maz gave me a boat.” He laughed nervously.

“You didn’t buy it from Rey?”

He froze. He hadn’t paid for anything at that fair except the food. And then he realized he actually hadn’t bought anything from Rey.

Rose must have understood his shock because she continued, “But it’s really nice that you went.”

He stood there like a lamp post, just gulping to himself. How could he have forgotten? He could have bought a few things, supported her in whatever small way. Instead, he’d taken one of her creations for free. Did Maz even pay her for that?

Rose spoke again after a while, “By the way, Rey mentioned you’d saved her at the lake. I mean… I know it’s kind of weird to say it, but thank you.”

“Oh. Yes. I, uh, I couldn’t have let her drown.”

“That’s… that’s nice.” And then a little huff of air escaped her. Was she laughing at him? When he looked at her, her smile seemed bigger.

Maybe he should go already.

“Right. I’ll see you around.”

And then he left without another word, and maybe he was walking too fast, but he went straight up into his room and threw himself onto the lumpy arm chair.

Why was he so bad at all this?

 

 

*******

Thursday night went on forever, Ben thought. Less than an hour before closing time, a group of drunk guys came, and they ordered bowl after bowl of food, laughed too loud and lingered too long. It was well past midnight when they closed, and his nerves were frazzled. Even Han’s face was grim as they finally pulled the shutters down.

After showering, he sunk into his bed and thought happily of how tomorrow was finally Friday, and he’d see Rey. A _week_. It had almost been a week, and it had been a fucking long one.

He checked his phone, which he’d left on his bed while he was working, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw that there were messages from her.

_> I tried the pool at zanzibar this morning :)_

_> it wasn’t so bad _

_> the heat rly does help I think _

Oh. When he’d suggested it to her, he thought they would go together. Maybe he should have been clearer with his intentions. He felt a little hurt that she went alone. But then… he really didn’t have any right because this was her battle. He’d helped her get her foot out the door, so to speak, but really, if she wanted to get stronger on her own, that was none of his business. Good for her, actually.

_> the smell of chlorine tho, it really stays with you _

_> just one whiff of it and ur back to that place _

_> I haven’t been to a chlorinated pool since I was a kid _

Since she was a kid. Since that time, maybe, with her dad. He wasn’t going to ask.

_> I’m thinking of going again tomorrow_

_> not sure yet tho :D _

That was all of her messages. The last bit… it didn’t look like an invitation. She hadn’t invited him this morning, just like she didn’t invite him last Saturday.

And then his heart lurched at the thought: was she trying to keep her distance?

Had he done anything? Had he pushed too much? He thought they had a nice goodbye at the fair, even though that day had started out not-great. But did he read the whole thing wrong?

It was one-thirty, way too late to talk with her. And so he just sent a simple reply.

_< Glad it worked out for you. :) Let me know how it turns out if you go again tomorrow. _

There was part of him that hoped she’d answer. But after long minutes of nothing, he finally gave up. She was asleep.

He tried to go to sleep, too. Just like the past few nights, he pulled up the picture she’d sent, hoping it would imprint long enough to carry over into his dreams. But as he stared at her wide eyes and her pouting lips, his mind wandered and found something to latch on.

If he’d been at the pool with her this morning, he would have had her in his arms again. And if she’d been in a bathing suit, that would have been a lot of soft, wet skin, and if she held onto him like she had before…

He wanted her so fucking much.

He hated that it got him hard, that his mind couldn’t stop thinking of peeling wet triangles of cloth away from her breasts. He pushed his sweatpants down and grabbed his cock firmly in his hand, committing to the fantasy. In the water, her nipples would pucker for him, and it would be so easy to pull her up and have her wrap her legs around his waist. He would suck on the hard points until she moaned for him, until they got as red and as kiss-swollen as her lips. And when he finally pushed his fingers into her, maybe she’d scream for him. He would drive her crazy, just as she drove him crazy.

But he wouldn’t take too long with it because what he wanted most, really, was to feel her squeezing his cock with her softness. He wanted to feel every inch of him sinking into her. The water would lap around them as she bounced on him, and it would feel so fucking sweet, making her feel good like that, making her fall apart in his arms. She would be so beautiful as she took her pleasure, and he’d kiss her and swallow her cries as he poured his hot seed into her welcoming warmth.

 _Oh, Rey_.

He shuddered as rope after rope of his come landed on his chest and his stomach. He kept his eyes closed, trying to hold on to the fantasy for as long as he could as his cock twitched in his hand.

Finally, he took his shirt off, wiped himself clean with it and threw it to the side of the bed.

He was tired and feeling bad for himself. He had no idea if there was any point in hoping.

He drifted off, spent but hollow with the want for her that never seemed to go away.

 

 

*******

 

 

If he hadn’t woken up too early, he might have not thought of going through with it. Actually, there wouldn’t have been a reason if that was the case since Rey would probably have left the pool already. But when he floated awake and saw that it was eight o’clock, he all but fell out of bed. Goddamn internal alarm clock must have set itself after he read her messages last night and now had gone off. Rey hadn’t even mentioned what time she was going to be there _if_ she was even pushing through with it. And if she wasn’t there, then… he would have lost nothing more than sleep. He wanted to at least try.

He knew this was impulsive. This was just like how it was last Saturday when he’d woken up thinking of going even though he hadn’t been invited. But that hadn’t turned out too bad in the end. He knew he was going to see her tonight at the Falcon when she came for her weekly meal, but he was desperate, and last night’s session with his hand just made things feel so much more urgent.

Maybe… maybe. Maybe today was the day he told her. Maybe on the way there, he’d gather enough courage. And if he didn’t, then… he would have other chances. He could try again a different time.

He brushed his teeth, changed his clothes, combed and then fluffed his hair—best thing he could do for it. He felt like lightning could come out of his fingers with how excited he was, and as he drove to the pool, his hands shook a little on the steering wheel. His heart was a taskmaster that whipped everything up and urged him to go faster, _faster—Rey’s waiting for you._

When he got there, he practically flew out of his car and threw his money at the lady behind the counter. And then he pushed his way through the swinging double doors that led to the pool area, down a short corridor, and then—

Voices. Hers was distinct and unmistakable, and there was laughter in it. All his fantasies had been of them alone, but the place must be more popular than he thought because even though it was a weekday, there were a few people in there.

The pool came into view, and there she was, at the shallow end of it, and even from here, he could see that she was smiling. But she hadn’t seen him yet, and then he realized—

She wasn’t smiling at _him_. And in the next moment, her hands lifted out of the water, and it was clear they were in another pair of hands, hands that belonged to that familiar person right in front of her, with his close-cropped dark hair—

“C’mon, Toofs, it’s not even that deep—”

He stumbled back before they could see him, and his heart raced him all the way back to his car. And as he drove away, even faster than earlier, his hands shaking so much more—where was he even going?—he thought of how she hadn’t replied to him this morning, of the two times she’d cancelled. Did she even really take her uncle to the doctor on Tuesday?

Why didn’t she tell him? And if she hadn’t told him this, what else had she been keeping from him?

He thought this part of her had been _his_ , like a fucking fool. But this Finn guy… Finn had known her since who knew how far back, had been acquainted with her pain for years, had been her friend for so much longer. Her friend… her _friend?_ Was that all they were?

Jealousy—a fiery, ravaging river of it—swept him up and filled his veins and his lungs so everything rattled and it was impossible to breathe. It was like nothing else he’d ever felt. And he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to break things—the glass in front of him, his own bones—it didn’t matter what. He slammed his palms against the steering wheel, just another pointless action in the sea of pointless things that was his life.

Here was his punishment for his impulsiveness. Would it have been better if he’d never found out?

There was no bubble with her. Whatever connection he thought they had—clearly it was all on his side. He shouldn’t even be surprised. This was how things always went for him. He was always meant to be alone.

He found himself on Artoo’s dock. Here, at least, there was always welcome. On the weathered wooden planks on his lake and by his boat, he sank down and cried.

 

 

*******

He decided he wasn’t going to let this break him. Not much more than it already had, at least. He’d tired himself out crying by the lake, and he’d fallen asleep right there, like so many times before, and he’d woken up disoriented. And then he’d remembered. But his tears had already dried out, and as he sat there, he realized, so had his feelings. The water was so still and so grey.

He was calm when he drove home. Calmly said no when his dad called out from the back door of the Falcon kitchen, asking if he wanted lunch. Calm when he curled up on his bed, because there was nothing else he could be, nothing else he could do. Calm when he went down to work.

But his tongue felt like a lump inside his mouth, and his eyes felt scratchy, and he knew his dad and Chewie noticed how short his words were. They asked, but there was nothing to say except he was okay. And there was a tremor in his hands as he scooped an egg into a bowl and missed, but Chewie wordlessly fried up another as he cleaned the mess up. And that same tremor made his hand slip as he tossed meat in a pan, and the back of his wrist was burning, _burning_ , and he dropped the pan, and it clattered to the floor and spilled what was left of the beef and hot oil all over the white tile.

And then he was bent over and howling in pain, and screaming curses at the floor, and his eyes were flooding again, and Chewie was pressing a wet dish towel against his wrist, and his dad was wrapping arms he’d forgotten were this strong around him from behind—

“Ben, come on. It’s okay. Stop. Stop. Is this about Rey? Tell me, son. Have you been fighting?”

He didn’t want to be reminded that she’d be here any minute because it was fucking _Friday_ , and it was impossible to say much through his tears.

“Sorry, Dad—sorry—I don’t think I can—”

“Go. Go on up. Take a break and take your time.”

He crawled back into bed, reminded once again of just how much of a fuck-up he was. He was just so tired. His wrist stung, and when he peeked under the soggy cloth, it was already blistering. The pain was a good distraction. He drifted on and off.

He thought he heard a knock on his locked door, but he didn’t want to talk to his dad. Not right now. He figured Han would go away if he ignored him, but the knocking persisted. He got up and opened the door a sliver.

But it wasn’t Han who stood in the dim landing.

Rey looked up at him with those big, somber eyes. She had her heavy bag slung over her shoulder, and her fingers fidgeted on the strap.

“Hey, Ben.”

He felt like he was in someone else’s body as he looked back at her. Why was she even here? The question inside his mind was distantly curious. As was the observation that she was beautiful.

When he didn’t say anything, she went on, “Han let me up. Are you okay? He said you burned yourself.”

He swallowed what little saliva he had. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Did you put something on it?”

“I said I’m okay.” His voice was even. Cool. “You’re not my mother, you know.”

He watched her brow curl. Her chin shake.

“Ben, what’s wrong? Have I done something?”

He looked at the rising hurt in her eyes.

“Why are you here, Rey?”

“I don’t—I was worried, and you weren’t there. I thought I was going to see you tonight.”

“Well. Now you’ve seen me. That’s it for this week, I guess.”

He didn’t even know what he was saying.

“What do you mean?”

Things were shifting inside him, and he knew that the longer this went on, the more likely he’d lose this strange, calm shell.

“See you again next week?”

Her face crumpled. “Why are you pushing me away? What have I done?”

He can’t break. He _can’t_.

“Ben, please just tell me—”

“I was wrong about all this, I get it now. Just… I got ahead of myself, I guess.”

“Wrong about—?”

“When you asked me to help you with your shit, this… thing you have with water… well, I guess I thought you actually needed _my_ help. And I’ll be honest with you, I kind of got lost in the idea that hey, someone actually wants me for something. But you know what the stupidest thing in the world is? To think that you’re something more than you are.”

She only looked at him like he wasn’t making sense.

He chomped on his lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how you’ve been avoiding me all week?”

Something flitted across her watering eyes, and it looked suspiciously like guilt. So he was right.

“You know, now I’m really wondering, did you and your friends plan this all along? Make miserable Ben Solo even more miserable? Is this about that first time—that stupid thing downstairs? Or was it something else? I mean—your friends clearly hate me. You don’t have to explain Dameron, he’s always been fucking _precious_ —but I don’t even know what the fuck is up with—what’s his name? Finn? Well, guess what? I saw you earlier, at the pool with him, and you looked like you weren’t really lacking for any kind of… _friendly_ help.”

Her eyes and her voice hardened. “You have no right to talk about my friends like that when you clearly have no idea what you’re saying. And as for you going there—why didn’t you tell me?”

He huffed because that really was funny. Really rich coming from her.

“Because I was an over-eager fuck who thought you might have needed a friend with you there, that’s why.” His voice had risen. He couldn’t help it.

Her tears spilled over. But he was done with her hiding things from him.

“Look. I’ve been nothing but honest with you these past few weeks. Can you at least, just this once, give me the same?”

There was a look of resolve in her eyes, and the muscles of her jaw clenched, even as her chin trembled.

“All right, Ben. I’ll tell you.”

She smacked her hand against the door, but he wasn’t letting her in. Not anymore. She could take her big eyes and her tears and that catch in her voice home with her when she was done.

“When I came to this town when I was a kid, I had nothing. Less than nothing. So when I found my friends… they made things more bearable. Kept me sane. All these years, they’ve been my happiness. I owe so much to them. And then you come back home—”

Her voice broke, and it looked like she was having trouble breathing, finding her words. And her face was scrunching up, turning her eyes into waterfalls—

“—and suddenly, I’m spending too little time with them, and taking up too much of yours. I didn’t—I didn’t even know you much, but I found myself talking about things with you, begging you for help with my _shit,_ as you so elegantly put it. Not my friends. I wanted to go to the pool with you, Ben—I really did. But I knew—I _know_ it’s wrong to ask so much of you. I mentioned the pool to Finn, but I didn’t think he’d invite himself. How could I have said no, Ben? And you two—you two just hate each other, and I didn’t want any trouble. So I didn’t tell you. But… you were the one I wanted there with me, if you can believe it. So yes, I did go to the pool earlier with Rose and Finn—”

Wait, what? He hadn’t seen Rose there. But then, his vision had tunneled as soon as he saw Finn…

“—but I’m not going to apologize for that. They’re my friends, too, Ben, and I’m not going to choose between you and them. But now… now you’re telling me that I’ve been some kind of… some kind of _false friend_ to you.”

He _was_ wrong about all this, but not in the way he’d thought. _What had he done?_ He pulled his door open.

“Rey, I… I just didn’t understand. I’m not sure I really get it even now…”

“I know I shouldn’t need you so much, Ben, but… I can’t help it. Go ahead and put this on me. This _is_ on me.”

He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Listen… listen. I like that you need me, Rey. I just wanted to be a good friend to you.”

But why… why did that make her face fall even more?

He went on, “I wonder so much about what goes on in your head. You made those boats, and I just—I want to know why. I just want to know you. I know I’m terrible at this whole thing, but I just want to know you, Rey. You’re the first real friend I’ve had in such a long time.”

She burst into tears.

“Hey—talk to me. _Please._ I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

These didn’t seem like happy tears. He felt like he didn’t understand anything anymore.

Her words spilled in between her sobs.

“I feel like I’ve been just throwing myself at you… coming here and asking for your food, going to your—your lake when I can and hoping you’re there—”

His heart was hammering inside his chest. _What was she saying?_ Was he hearing all this right? He shook his head.

“—and I’ve been looking forward all week to seeing you because I’ve—I’ve missed you and I haven’t seen you in forever, and now you’re just mad at me, and I don’t even understand, and I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!”

He grabbed her to him, as tight as he could, because he couldn’t stand it anymore, either, and she clawed at his back as she wailed against his chest.

“Rey—Rey, I’m sorry, I’ve been an idiot—I’m sorry! I just—I just saw Finn with you earlier, and I’ve never been more jealous of anything in my life. And I thought you didn’t want me there after all—”

Her sobbing stopped, and she stiffened in his arms.

“How could you think I would ever not want you?”

“You didn’t want me to come on Saturday, either, and you’d cancelled twice on our lake thing—”

“You know why! I told you why! I had to work, and my uncle—”

“I know, I know now—”

“Ben…” She pulled back a little and grabbed his face with her hands. “Ben, I’ve done nothing but want you these past few weeks, and I thought… I thought I had a chance with you.” Her breath rattled in her chest. “Was I wrong?”

He looked at the truth on her face, and she broke him a little more, after all. He crowded her against the open door and then wiped at her tears with his thumbs.

“Say that again.”

“Was I wrong?”

“Not that—”

“I want you, Ben. Is that okay?”

Fuck. _Fuck._

He was gasping, and his chin shook. Everything inside him shook.

“You drive me crazy, Rey.”

And then he kissed her.

It was nothing like he’d imagined a first kiss was supposed to be like. It was sloppy and shaky and too wet from their tears, and he was going at it too hard. He didn’t know what he was doing, but fuck if the real thing wasn’t better than all of his fantasies rolled together, and this was just _kissing her_. Her lips felt nothing like the back of his hand when he used to kiss it when he was younger—softer, more pliant, more mobile—and when she flicked her tongue against the inside of his upper lip, he swore his cock went straight up.

_He was kissing Rey._

He lifted her to him, and the burn on his wrist hurt, and it was harder than it looked in all the porn he’d seen, after all, and he strained with the effort of holding her up against the door—maybe he was just doing this wrong—but still, she felt so fucking good in his arms—

And here she was, the bright core of his galaxy, melting him with her heat, turning him into liquid that just wanted to press up into every corner, every crevice of her being. She was just everywhere around him, and his senses were overloading on the feel and the smell and the taste of her. Her hands were in his hair, sending shivers down his back, and when she moaned, he couldn’t help but grind against her— _fuck_ —

“Ben?” The voice came from downstairs and wafted in through the open door. _Dad_. He almost dropped Rey. Gods, if his dad came up— “Everything okay in there?”

Rey pressed her finger against his lips, but her legs were still tight around him, and then she was kissing him over and around her finger, little damp touches of her berry lips on his that drove him wild.

“Yeah, Dad, we’re okay,” He managed to shout, and he thought his voice didn’t sound particularly off. “We’re just—we’re just talking.”

He thought Rey whispered, “Don’t move,” which was really terrible of her, because _she_ was moving her hips against him, just subtle rocking motions that made him even harder. If she didn’t stop, he was going to—

“It’s getting late, you two. Rey should get going.”

_Fuck._

“Right, Han, I’ll be down in a second.”

As she untangled her legs from him, he kept his face pressed against her neck. She smelled so good, like shampoo and sugar and a hint of sweat and… just _Rey_.

“Ben. I should go.” But she kept her arms around him, kept her face pressed against his chest where his heart still thundered for her.

How the hell was he letting her go now? But she was right. Having her in his room, with his bed so close… His mind was already _there_ , and his body wanted so desperately to follow. But this wouldn’t be the time for that.

He bent down and kissed her again, and this time, there was no urgency. Just her warmth and her soft trembling. She was so sweet.

“Maybe I should drive you home.”

“No need. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Are you sure? I can barely stand.” And it was true. He laughed, but then turned serious. “I’m really sorry about today. But I’m glad we got it all out.”

Her eyes were so soft for him, and the new thing in them spoke to his soul. “I promise I’ll do better, Ben. No more secrets.”

He wanted to say so much more. Maybe tomorrow, he’d find the words. She wiped her face and set her hair and her clothes straight, and then he walked her down the stairs—and that was when she remembered his burn, and she fussed—and to her bike. He hoped the night kept the thing in his pants that hadn’t quite settled down yet hidden in the dark.

He could feel Han’s eyes following them from inside the diner. He looked down at her—shit, why did she have to look so cute even in her helmet?—and was tempted to plant a last smooch on her lips. But he contented himself with a hug, and her whisper of “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben” was full of promise. She bit her lip in that way of hers, smiled her secret smile, and then she was gone. He stood on the sidewalk and watched her rear light disappear.

“So. You kids made up. You okay now? Your hand?”

Answering was useless because his dad already knew, anyway. But still he said, “Mm-hmm.”

Han sighed. “I don’t know who I should be more worried for—you or her.” And then a huff of laughter, and then Ben was alone again.

For once, Ben wasn’t particularly worried. Right now, things looked pretty awesome from where he stood. Rey… gods. He was sure he wasn’t getting much sleep tonight.

And then—

“If you’re done floating out there, maybe you can walk your ass back into the kitchen, huh?”

He took his time. After all, he wasn’t quite done floating yet.

 

 

*******

 

 

_< I didn’t get to cook for you tonight. _

_> ikr. I missed your chicken :/ _

_> I’d been looking forward to it too _

_< Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring you my chicken. I’ll make sure to have lots of sauce ready for you. :) _

_> thinking of ur chicken makes me salivate_

_> you don’t know how much, ben _

_< Maybe I do. I just want you satisfied. _

_> I can’t wait ;) _

 

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is a little drama prince. :)


	9. Chapter 9

*******

 

 

If Ben had thought that clearing things up with Rey would have been enough to give him peace of mind, having the rest of the night to process the whole thing proved that a fantasy.

Things had gone far better than he could have hoped for, and he’d floated in relief and a happiness he couldn’t contain through the last few hours of work, so much so that his dad and Chewie didn’t let up with the ribbing until they’d said good night. He almost couldn’t believe that she’d been putting herself in his path with the same hope he’d been harboring all this time. And after that text exchange, the memory of her hot kisses and the feel of her wrapped around him made his hand very busy for a long time as he lay in bed.

And yet as he closed his eyes, neither the physical release nor the euphoria could stave off his unease when he thought of how he’d almost ruined things again. If Rey hadn’t come up, he would have marinated in self-hatred and resentment for prophets knew how long, and maybe that would have chased her away for good. And he would have deserved it for his utter assness, especially after the baseless shit he’d thrown at her. Again.

He needed to do better, and if he couldn’t do it for himself, then he damn well better learn for Rey. He knew that whatever reasons he had for this defensive shell that kept springing up, it was doing him more harm than good, just providing him with a space for his thoughts to endlessly ricochet. If there was one person who wouldn’t want to hurt him—and for fuck’s sake didn’t deserve his bullshit—it would be her.

The thought of messing up again nipped at sleep, and for countless minutes he desperately tried to lull his mind into relaxing by telling himself it wasn’t impossible to do better… _do better…_

But when he next opened his eyes, it wasn’t to the sound of his alarm, and when he checked his phone to see just how much longer he had till it actually went off, his eyes just about bugged out when he saw that it was already seven minutes past the time they’d agreed on meeting. What the hell happened with his alarm? Her texts were only of the _good morning_ and _can’t wait to see you_ kind, and in a panic, he called her.

But she’d only been amused at his blubbering apologies and made him promise not to speed. There went his plan of making brunch for her, and as he snatched the bag he’d thankfully prepared last night off the floor and flew downstairs, he hated that _presentable_ was the best he could do about his appearance. On this day of all days.

He was so excited to see her again, and for once, his eagerness churned the water, and even though he knew how much farther he had to go, he kept turning his head to see. He gritted his teeth and was at once impatient with and sorry to his faithful boat that he was entertaining traitorous thoughts about how now would have been a good time to have a newer, faster shell.

And there she was on their dock, sitting on the very edge of it with her feet splashing in the water, welcoming him with that smile that did things to his heart. If she’d worn a sack, she would have looked no less breathtaking than she did now in her dark plaid button down. As he came close, she lifted her legs up so he could sidle up right in front of her, and damn if she wasn’t pretty down to her toes. She curled her calves over the edges of the boat and helped keep it in place as he secured it.

“Hey, Ben.”

And just like that, he found himself attacked by a sudden shyness. He was sure his face glowed as he clambered up onto the dock next to her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I think I might have killed my alarm.”

“It’s okay. I was having a nice quiet conversation with your lake. And you’re right… he’s a good listener.”

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it’s a she.”

She chuckled. He found himself wanting to hold her hand, which wasn’t even two inches away from his. But gods, he couldn’t even look at her.

“Well?”

“Hmm?” he asked, distracted by a freckle on one of her cute knees.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?”

Her eyes were shining when he looked at her. Did she even know what she did to him? He leaned closer, and he swore that even just the contact of their shoulders sent tingles down his back. The softness of her lips on his had his breath catching, short as the kiss was.

He moved back, and he was happy to see that she looked as undone as he felt. “Better?”

“No.”

And then she wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him down again, and this time, her kisses were wetter, warmer.

When they went up for air, she breathed against his jaw, “I missed you, Ben. I wish we could have talked longer last night.”

He laughed, the sound ragged as his lungs tried to recover.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he told her. “I mean… even more than usual. I kept thinking of the things you said. Of you.”

Honesty was easy when they were soft like this, when she had her arm curled around his and her face looking up at him by his shoulder, just inviting him close. And when he saw the spots of color on her cheeks, he remembered that kisses were allowed now, and so he placed a quick one on one of them.

“Your eyes still look tired,” she said. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

He moaned, then lay on his back, still with his legs dangling over the side of his boat. He closed his eyes against the brightness of the morning sky. She followed a second after, and even though only her head and the side of her arm touched him, she felt so wonderfully close.

“Not really, no. Somehow it feels worse here, though. It’s been harder falling asleep ever since I got back.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“Just thinking about things, I guess. And like I said—” he huffed, “—thinking of you.”

“You keep me up at night too, Ben.” Her words made his skin feel twitchy. And other places. He thought he felt her scoot an infinitesimal bit closer. “We’re drowning in cheese, aren’t we?”

“Is that bad?”

“I like it.”

They were quiet for a few moments, and Ben savored just being present in the moment with her. The boat rocked a little against his feet, and once, her cold calf touched his.

And then she squeezed his arm. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Ben. Not on our first date.”

His eyes shot open and met hers. He hadn’t even thought of it that way. Gods… the label made his heart race. Was this good enough for a first date? Should he have brought her something? Should he even tell her that he’d never been on one? He bit his lips.

Some of his panic must have shown on his face because her eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Hmm. Your mind is trying to work something out, but there’s no easy way to get there.”

“Oh. It’s… just that I didn’t—I didn’t even bring you flowers. Or… I don’t know.”

To his mortification, she laughed.

“Don’t you know that according to the experts, these days, you don’t bring flowers on a first date anymore?”

“Oh—oh. Then it’s a good thing I didn’t, after all.”

That only made her laugh again. “I forget what else the experts said, but Rose took the magazine from me before I finished the article and tore it up for our project. Making art out of trash, she said.”

He stared at her as he thought of how she must have been like in high school. By senior year he’d been too focused on getting away, but he wondered with a drop of retrograde jealousy how things could have gone if it had been him she’d been friends with instead of Dameron’s posse. Him who gave her some peace in her life. And he was sure she would have brought the same to him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so hell-bent on leaving.

But she was here now, and here was their bit of peace.

“What do you want to do?” he asked her after a while.

She looked at him a long moment and bit her lip. Looked away again and huffed. What was that?

“Let’s try getting in the water today.”

She sprung up so suddenly that he was left with no choice but to follow suit. Her entire demeanor had changed to one of determination as she looked down at the water.

“One of these days, I’m gonna cannonball from this dock. Like all those summer pictures you see online. Maybe even do a somersault thing. Can you do somersaults?”

“Never tried, but I don’t think so.”

“Okay, maybe not a somersault. But a cannonball would be good. Let’s do this.”

And then she proceeded to peel her shirt off. Ben’s first reaction was to look away as his face heated up—this wasn’t just any old cute girl in a swimsuit but _Rey_ —but just as instantly, his eyes bounced back. Her one-piece attire wasn’t particularly revealing, but when she bent to pull her shorts down, his eyes couldn’t help but trace the lower curves the blue-green material didn’t cover. And when she lifted her arms to tie her hair back, her body was one long, toned line that went on forever.

He really needed to get in the water.

But before that, he grabbed his bag and pulled something out of it.

“Here,” he said as he handed it to her, “I brought my old goggles. These should help.”

She put them on and looked around. “They’re sucking my eyeballs out.”

He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. You won’t be wearing them the whole time. Actually, maybe the strap is too tight… you can adjust it.”

He took his shirt off and slipped into the water. The relative cold helped.

“Wait, Ben—that’s too deep! I can’t get in from here!”

“Walk down and I’ll meet you where it’s not as deep.”

He swam next to the dock, and she grumbled, “Now you’re just showing off.”

“I gotta impress my date.” He floated on his back for good measure.

Her footsteps slowed down, and a little smile was wrapped around the way she bit her lower lip.

Her words were just as slow. “That is pretty impressive, Ben Solo.”

And maybe her words meant what he hoped they did, but he flipped back over before certain parts of him decided they wanted more of her praise. He walked a short distance after his feet touched bottom until the water reached his chest.

“Here… this should be okay. Slide in and I’ll catch you.”

He held his hands up to her, and she took them and eased herself into the water with a gasp. And then promptly wrapped her arms around him and stood on his feet.

“Oh, gods… cold… give me a moment.”

She shivered in his arms. He tried not to think of all the fantasies he’d had of them in the water, but the way she bounced herself on her toes and rubbed against him didn’t help. He grit his teeth and reminded himself of why they were here.

“Okay, so… you know what helps? Going under. I know it sounds counterintuitive if you’re feeling cold, but you’ll adjust faster.”

“Just… go under?”

“Well, there’s one thing in particular. You blow bubbles. Like this.”

He moved himself away from her but kept her hands in his, and then he submerged himself and blew bubbles.

He bobbed out and wiped the water off his face. “Try it.”

“So I just blow air out? Okay.”

She went under, and he knew from how fast she popped back out and gasped that she’d done it wrong.

“You need to do it through your nose, though, not your mouth. And do it slowly. Evenly.”

She nodded and tried again.

“Do it a few times,” he told her, and they blew bubbles together.

After a few dips, he found her smiling. She took off the goggles and rubbed her eyes.

“That is pretty calming. And you know what? It’s kind of nice looking under the water. I can see everything! Got a nice view in front of me, too.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and she had a big, goofy smile. Silly girl.

Gods, how she made him laugh.

She put the goggles back on and did it a few more times on her own, and soon she wasn’t blowing bubbles anymore but just looking around under the water. He could see her holding her hands up in front of her eyes and flipping them this way and that. Every now and then, she’d pop up and exclaim.

“I can see the bottom! It’s so cool how the light just hits things and kind of… makes ribbons in the water. And there’s green things! Do you think there’s fish in here?”

Seeing her like this… it made him so damned happy. This was so different from the last time they’d been here together, and her excitement over every little thing just made his heart swell.

“So how do you feel?” he asked.

She held her hands together over her chest. “My heart’s still racing, kind of, but it feels… different. It’s not the same way it was before. This is just amazing, Ben!”

He went under with her, and he shouted her name into the water. She was laughing when they went up.

“I didn’t know you could do that!”

They made a game of it, but it was impossible to make out anything. And maybe he said things to her in the water, spilled his feelings to his lake that maybe someday, he’d find easier to say directly to her.

He taught her how to float on her back and fill her lungs with air to make it easier, and tried not to think of how the slight swells of her breasts pressed against her swimsuit, especially whenever she puffed her chest out, or how the backs of her legs felt against his arms as he held her up the first few times. It didn’t take long for her to get the confidence to do it on her own, and the water muted the world as he floated next to her, the sun warming his face and torso.

He didn’t know how long they stayed in the water, but they waded out and got back on the dock when Rey declared that it was time for a snack.

“I was planning on making something, but there wasn’t time,” he told her.

“You promised you’d give me your super-saucy chicken, too.” She mock-pouted. “But! I do have bean bread with me. And tea.”

“Tea—of course.”

She got a towel out of her bottomless bag and draped it over her shoulders, using the corners to dry her face. And then she pulled out a loaf of swirly bread—a little squished, but the sight reminding his salivary glands that he hadn’t had anything to eat yet, to his surprise—and her giant bottle.

He chuckled. “When you said bean bread, I thought you meant individual rolls, not an entire loaf.”

“Like you said: I like `em big.” And then she winked at him.

This girl. _This girl_.

They demolished the sweet bread in no time, and he loved watching her pull the layers of bread and dark bean filling apart before putting the pieces in her mouth. Her mobile, berry-pink mouth that drove him crazy. When a drop of tea managed to escape her lips and sluiced its way down her chin and neck, he almost moaned.

He was desperate for a distraction.

And so he asked her, “Why’s your bag always so heavy? What do you have in there?”

She dragged the thing between them, and she pulled its edges apart so he could peek while she dug in. Out came her phone, a sketchpad, a pocket knife, a retractable craft knife, a few detail tools in a pouch, a small bundle of clothes in a plastic bag, her wallet, pencils and pens, a kitty coin purse, even two small blocks of wood that were on their way to becoming something else. His sci-fi anthology. A wooden recorder. Each item made the smile on his face get bigger and bigger.

“And here I was thinking my wallet and phone are a pain in the ass.”

“It gives me something to do when there’s no one in the store. It can get _really_ boring sometimes.” She dragged the word out.

He picked up her recorder and ran his fingers over its worn, scratched surface. “You play this?”

“No, that’s my self-defense weapon. Much better than mace. Just stab them in the neck… boompf.” She made a slicing motion with her hand. “Yeah, I guess. Just a little, by ear. I can’t really read music. It’s just for fun.”

“Play me something.”

“Nah, I’m not good. And you’ll make me self-conscious.”

“Come on, just one song.”

“Fine.” She snatched it from his hand and looked thoughtfully at him for a moment as though deliberating on what to play. And then she put the instrument to her lips, and the first few notes came out a weak squawk.

“Blow on it hard so it comes out louder.”

“I’m sure you know all about that.”

He let out a bark of laughter at that. But his amusement died when she started playing in earnest.

Of all melodies, it had to be _that_.

The familiar slow, mournful sound was played in an arrangement that served the simple instrument well, and there was more love than skill in the sliding notes of her inexpert hands. Over her playing, he could almost hear his mom’s piano and her complex counterpoints, the piece one he’d heard so many times in his childhood.

When the notes faded, he couldn’t find the words.

“Was it that bad?” she asked, and at her expression, he hastened to reassure her.

“Oh, no, no… it was lovely. And I think it was you I heard that other time, too. I thought I’d been imagining it.” He continued when the worried look refused to leave her eyes. “That was my grandfather’s composition, you know.”

“Yeah. That’s why I… I just thought you’d like it. Sorry.”

He took her hand.

“I haven’t played the piano in a long time.”

“Why? Finn told me you used to.” She cocked her head, his curious girl.

Dameron probably told them about it, for some reason. But even the thought of that person couldn’t shake him from the sudden grip of his memories.

“You know my mom and her family. They’re all musicians. When I was a kid, I guess everybody thought it would be a foregone conclusion that I would be, too. I was okay at it, but I don’t know… the older I got, the more it felt like it was just something I had to do because I’m a Skywalker. I guess I resented feeling like it was being forced on me. Or disappointing my mom because I wasn’t passionate about it.”

She squeezed his hand. “Is that also why you’re here a lot?”

He smiled at her. “You know me so well. Yeah, I just wanted to get away.” He drew in a long breath. “When I was fifteen, they sent me to my uncle in Ahch-To.”

“Luke Skywalker.”

“Yeah. They wanted me to be more serious about it. I was there for a few weeks over the summer, but I hated it. I mean he’s not a horrible person, but it almost felt like something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel the same way about the whole thing.”

He looked off into the distance, but he wasn’t really seeing the water or the trees. Rey stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I just had enough one day, after being made to practice for so long. He’d been harping about how my grandfather was already composing stuff when he was my age. I smashed the bench over the top of his piano. It cracked the wood badly. He sent me home after that and I haven’t seen him since.”

How could she bear to be with him? When he was like this? The lump in his throat was painful. He had to know.

“What do you think of that, Rey?” _What do you think of me now?_

She took her time answering.

“When you tell me these things, Ben, I have to admit it confuses me a little. You did these things, and it’s scary hearing about it.” She looked down at his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles—maybe she was wondering just how much damage they’d caused. Shame burned inside him. “But I know, too, that you’re sorry. You’re here telling me about it, and… I can feel your regret. I don’t think I’m imagining it. And this is something you’ve been keeping to yourself.”

“I am sorry. And I promise you, I haven’t done anything else.” He blinked against the moisture in his eyes. “I don’t want to be this terrible person, Rey.”

“Sometimes, you say or do things in anger. And yes, they were terrible. But you’ve apologized to me. I don’t know about all those other people, but to me, it was a big deal. Ben…” She got on her knees and hugged him. “Before the last few weeks, I only ever saw you from a distance. But I think I know you well enough now to see that you bottle things up so much. You have no outlet because you don’t talk to anyone. And then you just… you just explode sometimes.”

He pressed his face to her chest. Her swimsuit was damp against his lips and chin. Just like his eyes.

She went on, “I can’t stand the thought of you hurting over these things. Or you hurting other people. Listen: I’m here, and you can tell me anything. If we aren’t together, text me. Call me. Just… Ben, talk things out with me.”

He nodded against her. She kissed his lips. Just a quick, reassuring peck. She was so good to him, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

They stayed that way for a while, and when he pulled back, he gave a gasping little laugh. He wiped at his eyes.

“I’m ruining our date. This has got to be the most un-fun thing, sorry.”

She grinned down at him. “It isn’t over yet, you know.”

“Do you want to swim some more?”

“Hmm… I don’t really feel like going back in now that I’m kind of dry. How about you take me for a ride?”

A little devil crawled inside his head. He put his hand behind her thigh, right below the curve of her buttock, and pulled her even closer.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” he drawled, and the effect wasn’t ruined too much when he sniffled.

He loved her little gasp, but then she covered his mouth.

“I meant on your boat.”

He pulled her hand away. “Of course. What other ride were you thinking of?” He slid his palm down and up once, a slow glide that made her eyes go soft and robbed her of speech. He didn’t know what was making him so brave.

Or was this too much?

“Rey… you have to tell me if I do something you’re not comfortable with.”

Her head jerked on a nod. “Okay. Just… just your boat for now.” But she leaned down again, and this time, her kiss lingered, and her hand squeezed the back of his neck.

She stood up and flung off her towel, and then put her clothes back on. He did the same, and they both climbed into the boat.

Here was everything that was right in his world.

He went farther out than their first time, and though her hands were still curled tight around the edges, her eyes were more curious than terrified as she looked over the side and down into the water.

He thought of what she’d said to him on the dock, and remembered she also had things she hadn’t shared with him. He wished she’d explained about Finn, and her woodwork. He didn’t want to talk about bleak things again, and so he went for the lighter option.

He nudged one calf that rested against his own. “How’d you even get started on whittling?”

“Oh. It’s Rose, actually. She was my classmate the last year of middle school. I think that was my… second year here. The year before, I didn’t attend regularly. Anyway, I get invited to this sleepover for her birthday. We weren’t friends yet then, didn’t even really talk. But she was always just nice. So she invites me—I think she invited all the girls—and that’s shocking enough, and I’m panicking because I don’t have anything to give her. I wasn’t going to give her a lame ol’ drawing, so… my first attempt was really just a product of desperation.”

She laughed and went on, “I made this really basic five-petal flower out of a bit of bark I’d found. Really rough and plain—it didn’t even have a stem, just the head of it. I was just relieved she seemed to like it. But then later, I thought, oh, shit, her name’s _Rose_ , right? I’d just missed an opportunity. So after that, I tried making a rose—you know, not to give to her, but just because I wanted to try it. And of course, that was way harder, so it became this kind of challenge. I guess I just ended up enjoying it, and there was a lot of bark lying around. And then there was a tulips phase, and daisies, and then it was ladybugs and turtles… So… that’s pretty much it. It gave me something to do. I was walking around the woods a lot already, anyway.”

Her face brightened up. “And oh! I remember, I didn’t have a lot of pocket money, so I thought, why not sell them? I’d made a lot already by then. But you know… you can only sell so much to your classmates, and I was kind of… not the best marketer. I was a shy kid and didn’t really talk much with anyone. So that went on till the next year, first year of high school. There was this class trip coming up, and I had no money for it. So I just… mustered the courage, I guess. I went to Maz because she sold all this funky stuff. I mean I had nothing to lose. And she actually bought them! I couldn’t believe it. And she kept buying them—but only the best ones, she’d always say. I was just so lucky. I know she was doing me a kindness, and even getting me to do better.”

She looked up at the sky with a wistful smile. Her voice had been animated when she told her story, the memories obviously beautiful ones for her. But what Ben heard unsaid was how lonely she must have been, and desperate to fit in. He’d known that same isolation back then, but he’d convinced himself he was better off alone. And he’d never had to worry about money.

She was so fucking amazing.

He decided to tease her a little. “So… what about those boats?”

She looked at him with round eyes, and looked away again. “Tsk. You already know.”

Yeah… he already knew. And the knowledge lit a fire in his chest.

They talked about random things for a long time, and he wondered where that shy girl who didn’t talk to anyone went. And then he realized that he was talking as much as she was. He thought of how his dad and Chewie would gab non-stop, and how it all seemed like inconsequential chatter, but maybe it wasn’t so much what they were talking about that mattered, but that they were enjoying each other’s company. Just like how he was loving every second with Rey. And he knew he wouldn’t tire of hearing her voice or watching her animated face.

It was getting a bit too warm, and Ben convinced Rey to let him treat her to lunch, and she said yes on the condition that they buy ice cream after on her. But he felt a little funky in his still-damp shorts, and he was sure Rey couldn’t be any more comfortable in hers, so he proposed that they rinse off at his place. She laughed and told him she was glad he brought it up because she didn’t quite want to go home yet but it was getting itchy.

When they got back to the dock, they deliberated on what to do with her bike, and they agreed they’d leave it at Artoo’s and just come back for it later. And so he rowed the boat back to the other dock after giving her instructions on how to get there on her bike, and soon they were on their way home.

His dad was cleaning the smoker outside the Falcon kitchen when they got there.

“Hey, Han.”

“Rey? What have you kids been up to?”

“Ben’s been teaching me how to swim. We were at the lake.”

“That right? Have you had lunch?”

“We’re going for burgers,” Ben replied. “We’re just showering first.”

The brush in Han’s hand stopped moving, and his eyes narrowed. Ben realized his mistake.

“Not—not like—come on, Dad.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were looking it!”

Rey had her face turned away, and she looked like she was biting her lips to keep her smile in. Was that sunburn on her face or embarrassment? Gods… he wished the ground would just swallow him up.

Han sighed. “I could use a burger now, too.”

“Yeah, well—maybe next time,” Ben grumbled. “Let’s go, Rey.”

He trudged up the steps to his room, and Rey followed behind him. When she hesitated on his doorway, he motioned for her to come in.

There was something about inviting someone into your room  for the first time that made you feel instantly vulnerable, and more so, Ben thought, when it was someone you like _that_ way. Not that he had any experience in that, but his room was a window into him that maybe said even more than anything he could have voluntarily told her about himself. He realized just how little of himself was in this room, just his clothes inside the wardrobe and his laptop and books on a desk. A few pairs of shoes by the door. No posters or frames on the walls, and not much in the way of knick-knacks. One side of the room was taken up by his dad’s boxes which he’d covered up in some old curtains his mom let him have.

He wondered what she thought of this testament to his bare existence the past two months.

“Uh… sit. Please.” He motioned to the lone armchair. “Do you want something cold to drink?”

“Oh, no… I’m good.” Her eyes went over the small space. “You’re very neat.”

He let out a nervous huff. “Yeah… not much to make a mess with, I guess. Uh… you’ll need a towel.”

As he opened his wardrobe, he could feel her gaze on his back, and it made him all the more self-conscious.

He handed her the towel. “You go first. Feel free to use whatever.”

She went inside his tiny bathroom, and he was alone with his thoughts again.

He hoped she was okay with how his shampoo and soap smelled. The thought of her smelling like him, of his products sitting on her skin, of her naked in there with a waterfall of hot water turning her skin pink—it was impossible to escape it, and parts of his body didn’t even want to. His bed was _right there_ , and she’d be coming out so clean and fresh and damp. Maybe it wasn’t that he hadn’t been a particularly sex-crazed, horny teen growing up or in university, after all, but that he hadn’t been interested enough in anyone to get his blood really going. But now he was finding out that attraction and emotions made for a very potent cocktail—no pun intended. Rey was driving him crazy.

He needed to get out. Maybe he’d get that cold drink, after all.

He left the room and went downstairs. He found his dad rinsing off the grill by the hose, and Ben remembered something.

“Dad.”

“Hmm.”

“I need to ask a favor.”

“What?”

“Would you let me borrow your truck? We left Rey’s bike at Artoo’s, and I want to drive her home later. If it’s okay.”

Han gave him a piercing look. Welp. He hadn’t hoped much, anyway.

But then he said, “If you put so much as a single scratch on it, I’m going to peel your behind and make wall art out of your butt leather.”

“I won’t, Dad—sheesh. That was so long ago. It won’t happen again. And it’s for Rey. You like her, don’t you?”

His dad shook his head. “Well. This is unusual. But when did you become such a little manipulator, you booger? And I’m not the one who _likes_ Rey, am I?” Han snickered.

He looked skyward. But he’d take this if it meant he could get the truck.

“Keys are in the house. Oh, and—” there was that sharp look again “—there better not be any funny business in my truck.”

He walked off. No point acknowledging that last one. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll leave my key in case you need to go out.”

He went inside the main house and switched his key with his dad’s on the key rack in the kitchen. And then he got some apple juice and took his time drinking it, just sitting at his parents’ dining table and enjoying the quiet. He wanted Rey to be done before he went back up there. After about ten minutes, he figured that was long enough, and he got another glass of juice in case Rey changed her mind.

He felt a little silly walking all the way from the house to his room with it in his hand, but it was worth it because when he found her chatting with Han by the smoker—about barbecue, what else?—she took it happily, after all.

He rushed through his shower—he wasn’t going to rub one out when Rey was waiting for him, much as he needed the relief. But he dried his hair and put on one of his favorite shirts—he needed to make up for his haggardness this morning.

When he went down again, it was to the sight of Rey working on a stick in her hand, his dad her captive audience. Where did she even get that? She’d stripped it of its outer bark and with practiced ease was now pushing long, twisty slivers of the wood until it all bunched up on one end.

“What’s that you’re mak—?”

“Shh, just watch,” Han cut him off.

“Just something quick. Almost done.”

After a few more flicks of her knife, the wood-pompom thing popped off. She cut a length from what remained of the stick and tossed the worn end away, and then took a tool from the pouch on the floor and bore a hole through the flat piece in the middle of the pompom. Through this hole, she stuck the bit of stick. And then she twirled the stem in her fingers so the whimsical pompom flower spun.

“Ta-daa.”

His dad clapped his hands as though she’d just performed a concerto.

“That’s awesome, Rey! Did you see that, Ben? It’s like a magic trick.”

“Yeah, and so fast, too. It’s really pretty—look at that.”

She waved their compliments away and bent down to pick up her tools. It was cute how the attention was making her shy.

“It’s just something I learned from the internet.”

“You kids better get going before I get her to make some more. I’ve got stuff to finish before Chewie gets here. You know what he’s like.”

Han bustled about, and the smoker clanged as he slammed the grill back and adjusted things.

“I’ll see you on Friday, Han. Tell Chewie I said hi.”

“Don’t be late, kid. Three-thirty, and no scratches. See ya, Rey.”

Ben led her through the house and into the garage and listened as she made polite observations about the place. The thought that she’d likely be here a lot in the future gave him a little thrill. What would Sunday dinners be like with Rey here? Innocent as the thought was, he put a stopper on his burgeoning hope. They weren’t quite there yet. Having lunch with her was more than enough for now.

But as soon as they both got into Han’s truck, she surprised him when she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. And then she handed him the flower.

“What—you’re giving this to me?”

“Of course. Gotta have flowers on the first date.” She was grinning, so pleased with herself.

“You said—I thought—”

“This wasn’t planned, Ben. I just want you to have it.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Thank you?”

He laid the flower on the dashboard, like a poufy talisman of happiness. Unplanned or not, he couldn’t remember ever receiving such a personal gift from anyone outside of his family, or one that pleased him so much. And she made it herself, which blew his mind away even more. It got him wondering how someone as wonderful as Rey wasn’t with anyone right now. But he wasn’t going to question his luck too much.

He bought them two of the biggest, greasiest burgers on the menu, and if he kept asking her questions to get her to talk more in between her bites, he refused to feel guilty about it. He wanted to make their time together last as long as he could. And he was just as game in answering hers, and they went on about their favorite monsters from the book he’d lent her, and trashy romance novels, and his college roommate’s collection of animated porn. And he found out that while ice cream was good, trading bites made it even better. He loved the weight of her arm around his as they walked around, and how she sometimes bounced on her toes as she walked, trying to keep up with his longer strides. They went to a school and office supplies store because she needed a new sketchpad, and she got him sniffing fresh notebooks and colored pencils like a fool.

He wished the day would never end.

But he needed to get back soon for work, and they still had to get her bike. She was planning on heading straight home, too. From Artoo’s, there was a lot more silence in the truck as their time together came to a close.

She had him stop the truck on the road that led to her house, insisting that she’d bike from there. He got out, and when he looked at her through the windshield, she was so still in her seat, and she had a faraway look on her face. When he opened her door, her eyes were filled with the same emotion he was trying to keep at bay.

She opened her arms, and he slid into them. He stood between her knees and squeezed her right back.

“Ben. Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun. Or… I don’t know… much more than fun. It seems too small a word for today.”

He knew exactly what she meant.

She continued, “It’s like those yearly weather records… every new day with you beats the previous by a mile.” Next to his ear, the little chuff of her laughter was so warm.

“I’m just happy you enjoyed the water this morning.”

“I did. I’m so glad I asked you that first time. To help me, I mean.”

He was much happier, he was sure. She’d upturned his world in a few short weeks, and it had never looked better. To think that he almost didn’t have this day, that he almost ruined everything, just because he couldn’t think of anything beyond himself…

“I’m really, really sorry about yesterday. I was impulsive and stupid and didn’t stop to ask. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“You did. But… I guess it’s a lesson for both of us. We could have talked about it. Or… is it just easy to say that now that we’re looking back at the whole thing?”

“Maybe. All I know is I don’t want to hurt you like that again. Rey…” He pulled back and looked at her face. “Help me with this. I know I’ll probably keep saying and doing stupid things. I just want to learn how to be better at all that. And you’re just… so good to me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but tell me when I’m being terrible. Don’t put up with my bullshit. This is… this is like my water.”

She held his face in her hands, and her thumbs dug soft lines down his cheeks. “Of course. And it’s not a lot to ask. You don’t have to keep everything inside you anymore, you know. I love listening to you, knowing what you’re thinking and feeling. Of course I’ll be here. You’ve been a mystery to me for so long.”

She kissed his lips and then pulled him into a hug again, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“You make me feel so many things, Ben Solo. And do crazy things, too. Do you know—” she chuckled, “—that after you told me about the pool, I went and splurged some of the money I got from the sales I just made that day on my swimsuit?”

Huh. “Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have one. I was dead tired after the fair that day, but it just came to me on my way home. I’d never gone shopping for one before, and it was nerve-racking. I mean I was there at least an hour, just agonizing.”

He laughed. “I was trying hard not to think about it earlier. It didn’t seem right.”

“Why?”

“Because I was helping you with your thing, and… you know…”

His heartbeat was speeding up at the thought. She’d gone swimsuit shopping thinking of _him_. And then—

“I think lecherous thoughts about you all the time, Ben.”

He groaned and squeezed her harder. The way she said it, too… “You can’t just say things like that, Rey. Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“But it’s true.” Her breath was hitching, and was that her lips on his neck? _Fuck._

He wasn’t going to last a second longer without kissing her, and so he captured her lips in his. She looked and smelled and tasted like the most delicious thing, the raspberry ice cream having left a hint of its sweetness on her, and having her press herself against him like this overloaded his senses. And the funniest thing was she seemed to want him just as much.

He tore his mouth from her because he needed to know: “What do you think about?”

“Well… whenever I hug you, you’re so warm. I hold my pillow at night, but it’s never as warm or as heavy as I want. Like if I was—if I was maybe under you.”

Gods. He wanted to climb over her and give her what she wanted. He slipped his shaking hand inside the back of her shirt, desperate to feel her skin in his hands. She was smooth velvet, and he couldn’t get enough of her. Her own hand pawed at his chest, each swipe tugging a line of heat straight to his cock.

“And I love your hands… they’re so big. Everything about you is so big and warm. Drives me crazy just thinking about it.”

His brain was shutting down, and all that seemed to matter was that she was letting him touch her, taste her. He pressed wet kisses where her neck met her shoulder. When he grabbed her bottom and pulled her closer, her knees fell open, inviting him in. She gasped when he ground himself against her core.

“This is what you do to me, Rey… every single fucking night.”

She pulled back and looked at him. Her breaths were escaping her lips in ragged puffs.

“Do you… do you find relief?”

“Do I—?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ve never masturbated so much in my entire life, Rey. Relief only lasts so long. One stray thought of you and you get me like this.”

She bit her lips, and her eyes went impossibly softer. “Is it okay that I like that?”

Silly girl. He kissed her.

“It’s hell trying not to pop a tent at work with my dad right there, but sure.”

This time, it was her that laughed.

“Sure, that’s bad, but try walking around in wet underwear all day. The only difference is girls don’t have to worry about anything showing.”

The humor dispelled some of the intensity of the moment—although the image of her wet for him was one he would keep for his Rey-approved self-relief later—and the way she was squeezing him now was more tender than desperate.

“Ben… let’s not overthink this. I mean… it will happen when it happens.”

It surprised him to find that he agreed. He wasn’t going to stop wanting her, and he was just happy that she’d made it clear she felt the same, but now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t really ready for it, if he was being honest. He wanted it to be good for her when the time came, and a quickie in his dad’s truck when he barely knew what to do would be the worst idea.

He nuzzled his face against the side of her neck, which was quickly becoming one of his favorite spots on her body, especially whenever his attention made her sigh happily.

“I’m going to miss you, Ben.”

“I know. But I’ll call you tonight.”

“Yes, please.”

“I need to go. Dad will kill me if I’m late. And I might need another shower before work.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The witch patted his groin gently, and he jumped and gritted his teeth.

“Not too much—don’t break Little Ben, please. I haven’t met him properly yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed. And then gave her another smooch before disentangling from her. How was it that she made him so happy without even trying?

He lifted her bike off the bed of the truck, and she hugged him good bye. A last kiss, a last swipe of her tongue against his to drive him crazy—and she knew it. He watched her go—he was always watching her go—standing on the pedals, the pretty muscles of her legs bunching up with each motion, her house of a bag wobbling behind her. And he grinned when he thought that maybe she couldn’t sit because of how sticky her underwear had gotten.

Served her right.

 

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be warm fluff in these open waters.


	10. Chapter 10

*******

 

It was already past eight o’clock when Ben finally got the chance to take a break that night. Work over the past few hours had been barely enough to distract him from the urge to run upstairs to check his phone. He’d promised Rey he’d call her, and he didn’t want to risk having her fall asleep on him if he waited till closing time.

It was mad, he knew, missing her this much already when they’d just spent most of the day together. It was the newness of it, he was sure, but he wasn’t in any particular hurry to get too used to being… well… with her.

What were they, anyhow?

His dad and Chewie were already way past suspicion, but he didn’t want to give them any reason to think he was slacking off of work mooning over Rey. And so the garlic had never been minced more finely or the onions sliced in more perfect, more even strips, and his reward had been a Han who was less snarky than usual and a gratifying stream of _that-looks-greats_ from Chewie. And he realized in the process that he was deriving a lot of satisfaction in making sure the sauce covered his pork cutlets _just so_ , and to not have a grain of rice out of place. He didn’t know if it was his happiness skewing things, but the kitchen had never felt less oppressive.

Not that any of it made him want to run to his phone any less.

He zoomed upstairs and belly flopped onto his bed, grateful that no one was around to see how ridiculous he was being. He barely glanced at yet another funny image macro she’d sent before he was tapping an impatient beat on his mattress as he counted the number of rings.

Three, and three too many. And then—

“Ben!”

Her obvious excitement made his heart leap. He chuckled his happiness that it wasn’t just him.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. What’s so funny?”

It only made him laugh harder. “I don’t know. Everything’s funny. It’s that kind of night, I guess. I’m on my break, by the way.”

“Yeah… well… nice of you to call. Not that I was waiting or anything.”

He could hear the smile in _her_ voice, and his own was making his face hurt.

“Oh, you know. I had nothing better to do.”

“Mm, yeah. If nothing interesting comes up, I think I’ll just turn in.”

And then she yawned. The witch.

“Yeah, maybe I should just get back to work. I dunno… maybe someone cute will turn up.”

A beep. _She hung up._ Had he gone too far?

And then his phone was tinkling, but this time—

Her face filled his screen, her lips stretched flat in a wry smile. Her finger was pointing to her face.

“What?”

“Someone cute.”

He couldn’t resist. “Where?”

They both burst into laughter.

“Ben.” The single syllable of his name held a strange weight, even though she was still smiling. So damn pretty. “I love seeing you laugh.”

_It wasn’t just him._

But he didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, he asked, “What’re you up to, anyway?”

She was in one of the other buildings in the sawmill, she said, and she showed him her work desk, a chaos of tools, sketches and half-finished projects. Sprinkled all over were chips of wood, and she even flicked a few off of her lap as he watched. It was strange to think of how the rows of charming bugs and mini-mammals he’d seen at the fair started out from all this disarray. He was in bliss as her voice washed over him, but through it all, he was struck with how much forethought and attention to detail went into her projects.

They talked about her plans of signing up on a website that sold handmade crafts, and he listened as she explained about how she’d stumbled upon carving fruit pits and how she wanted to try it out. Her eyes had never looked prettier, with the stars of her love for her woodwork making them shine. Seeing them only made his heart ache more. He wished he was looking at them from up close.

Too soon, it was time to head back downstairs, but before they said good night, she talked of her plans for the next day.

“I’m seeing Rose and Finn in the morning, before work. It’s Sunday, so we’re having breakfast at Finn’s. His grandma makes these lovely rolls, and they go so well with… well, with just about anything.”

He told himself as soon as the unwelcome feeling hit that he was trying to be better, that she had more than enough space in her life for both him and her friends. They had other days—many other days together ahead of them.

And so it felt like a little triumph when he managed, “That sounds great.”

“Ben…”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t told them yet. About us, I mean. Tomorrow, I will.”

He watched the pensive cloud cross her face and steal her smile. He didn’t want her feeling torn over the matter, but it kind of stung that she’d been hesitating in telling her friends about him. A thought wormed its way into his head: she wasn’t ashamed of being with him, was she?

What could he do? What could he say?

He swallowed. “Are you worried?”

She smiled, as if to reassure him, and then nodded. “Just a little.”

But she was taking care of this, nervous as she was, and he supposed that was what’s important. He forced a smile on his own face.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll be okay. If not right away—if not tomorrow—then… we’ll make it okay.”

They said their goodbyes, and she had him pressing the phone to his cheek like a fool so she could “kiss him.” As he walked back downstairs, his footsteps felt a little bit heavier, and he thought of how things that happened so long ago, and with other people, were now haunting him in a way he could never have imagined. And making things difficult for someone who had nothing to do with any of it. Even the automatic _screw Dameron, that asshole_ that popped into his head now seemed… not quite right. Not when it only gave her a hard time. It wasn’t like the guy was even around these days, anyway. If he was, though… would things be any different?

What would happen in the morning?

Through the rest of the night, he could only hope that his reassurances to her wouldn’t prove empty.

 

*******

 

He wasted his Sunday on a thousand little nothings around his room and the main house, trying to keep his mind off of Rey’s report that Finn hadn’t taken her news particularly well. Rose, she’d said, had been a bit more encouraging, and had promised Rey she’d do what she could to help Finn come around. Maybe that conversation he had with Rose that one time—awkward as it had been—softened her view of him, after all.

Why couldn’t the guy be more reasonable? It wasn’t as if he had any real stakes in this. Ben barely remembered him from school, and if he was being like this for the sake of his friendship with Dameron, then he was being completely unfair to Rey. Dameron was the one who went overboard with his antics, and the ass—and his friend, who seemed to be proving a bit of one, too—should be grateful he hadn’t reported him.

He was a mess over this thing with her friends, and missing her, and after another video chat that night with her looking so scrumptious after a shower, with too much and too little skin outside of her tank top and _godsfuckingdammit_ her sleep shorts—she was doing it on purpose, he was convinced—he added sexual frustration to that mix.

Porn helped a little, and as he stroked his poor cock with one hand and held his phone close to his face with the other, he was too aware that he was looking for brunettes with long, strong limbs and lithe bodies on purpose, and that he was squinting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to focus on their faces. But it was too distracting that whenever they opened their mouths, they sounded nothing like what he needed to hear, and he pulled his earphones out of his ears in irritation.

He wanted _her_ , not these strangers and their obnoxious fake moaning. He wanted _her_ wet warmth around his cock, not his spit and his hand. He wanted to see _her_ pleasure, not this terrible acting.

It got him wondering if she did the same thing he was doing, and if she ever thought of him while she did it. And then he imagined just _how_ she did it, and that only inflamed him even more. How many fingers did she like inside her? Did she lift her shirt up and pinch her nipples while she rubbed herself—or take all her clothes off entirely? Did she ever bring her juicy fingers up to her mouth so she could taste herself?

_Fuck._

Here he was with a girl who seemed to want him as much, and his inexperience had never felt more painful. He wanted it to be good for her when the time came. He didn’t even have condoms, and the last time he’d tried them—in fucking high school, because _sex ed_ —he’d snapped one on his dick with his clumsy fingers, which just about killed the rest of him along with his erection, and when he tried again it felt too tight, and then it chafed, and then the realization that he and his covered cock weren’t going anywhere with anyone anyway pretty much ended that lesson on the same sad note as everything else in his life at the time.

Thank the prophets for online forums. If there was anything Ben was decent at, it was research. He might as well put his skills to use. He wanted so badly to please her and drive her as crazy as she was making him.

He wiped himself off and then reached for his phone again.

But where to start?

 

*******

 

After his long night of self-education, he invited his mom to lunch the next day, and busy as she was, she was more than happy to oblige. He didn’t even care that she teased him about meeting up with her just so he could see Rey—it wasn’t the entire truth, but it wasn’t too far from it. Eating out with his mom was nice, but it wasn’t what got him jumping out of bed.

She bussed his cheek in front of Threepio’s, and then Leia stood back, a smile on her face, and looked up at him.

“What?”

She sighed. “My boy’s all grown up. And he looks so handsome, all dressed up. But it isn’t for his lunch date with his ol’ mom this time.”

His face got warm. “Mom, I’m not even—this isn’t—”

“I’m just happy, sweetie. That you’re here. That you’ve made a friend.”

She squeezed him.

“Now let’s go in before I embarrass us both any more. Just give your mom this hour, Ben, and you’re all Rey’s when we’re done. I’m not even jelly.”

Oh, gods. “Do you have to use that word?”

“What? That’s how the kids say it.”

She got him to talk about Rey, and he found it wasn’t so bad, after all, telling his mom about their time at the lake—some of it—and Rey’s woodwork. The experience was novel, talking about something that made him happy, for once, instead of plans for the future just for the sake of having plans, or things that happened in school that he’d always felt he’d needed to put in the best light. This wasn’t reporting, not a parental evaluation. Just a conversation—and he had a glimpse of how other people must feel like, talking to Leia Skywalker-Solo. Whenever her eyes grew wide or crinkled at the sides, he felt a rush of pride, almost as though Rey’s accomplishments had been his own. And she let him do most of the talking, which was another marvel, and for once—though he usually didn’t mind, anyway, being one of the few ears she had for that particular rant—she didn’t complain about work.

He ordered stuffed pasta shells and a berry danish for Rey, sure she’d love them. It was early in her shift yet, and he didn’t know when she was taking her break, but he hoped it would stay warm until then. He didn’t think he could—or should—wait all the way until then, and so all he planned to do was drop the food off. Watching her eat was a pleasure he’d have to put off for another time—tomorrow, which wasn’t too far off, thankfully—and it was enough, for now, to catch a glimpse of her. And maybe steal a smooch or two.

He insisted on paying because he was the one who invited his mom, and then they were standing outside the restaurant once again, saying goodbye, when something behind him caught her attention.

“Mr. Eyttsevhen—I haven’t seen you in a while. Any chance I’ll see you at the concert?”

Who else would it be but _Finn_ —and so soon after Rey’s not-great Sunday breakfast with him, too. He supposed it shouldn’t have been too much of a coincidence: they were downtown, and so close to the college. Ben had always been nervous about meeting someone he knew whenever he was in the area, and for once, his fears had been justified. The guy’s eyes shifting around and his throat working hinted at just how perplexed he was at seeing them together, and yet couldn’t say anything in front of his mom. No leering this time, but he seemed to be trying his best to avoid looking at Ben.

Somehow Finn managed to stretch his lips into a passable smile for his mom. “Howyadoin’, Miss L. Uh… just from the seats this time, maybe. But I’ll be there.”

“So… no lead, no band, huh? What about Snap and Temiri? You guys couldn’t change Poe’s mind?” And then to Ben, she added, “Finn wrote songs and did tech stuff for the band.”

“No, they’re all super busy—Snap’s gone abroad with his family. Poe’s found a regular gig, though. He said the pay could be better, but he’s enjoying himself.” The guy tagged on a polite laugh at the end.

“Huh. Good for him. It’s only a matter of time till he gets those big league eyes on him, I’m sure—but our loss, I suppose. He’d fill half the seats just by himself if he was here.” She chuckled. “Are you on your way to class now?”

“Oh, no, uh—not right now. Work, actually.” He tapped what looked to be document packages tucked under his arm.

“All right. If you guys change your mind, there might still be a spot for you—the program’s not finalized yet. Just drop by my office or talk to Kaydel. Hey…” And then she looked up at Ben, her eyes assessing. No. _No._ “You kids should all get together sometime. Do something fun. Go on a double date or something. You and Miss Tico—”

“Oh, Rose and I aren’t—”

Ben phased into a different dimension and tuned the rest of their words out. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It was awkward enough seeing the guy, but his mom— _his mom_ —

His mom was pulling at his arm, and he leaned down in a daze as she plopped a kiss on his cheek. She was saying something about his dad, and then she left.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Finn, and it seemed he was just as dumbstruck as Ben felt. But the guy snapped out of it sooner, and without another word, he walked off. Ben followed him with his gaze as he went into an office building a few properties down. Right in the direction of M-porium.

He was still in his alternate dimension, it felt, as a million thoughts danced in his mind. Rey’s tight, careful smile. That sneer Finn gave him weeks ago. A hand ruffling his hair.

Words.

 _It’s not_ _in you to care… I’m happy that you’ve made a friend… They’ve been my happiness… kept me sane… It’s weird to say it, but thank you…_

_Help me to be better._

He waited by the steps of the building Finn had walked into. It was time that he didn’t have, time that he should have been spending looking around at the M-porium so he could have a reason to stay longer with Rey as she worked before he had to leave for his own shift. His watch told him that it had been more than ten minutes, but it felt so much longer, just standing there, waiting for a guy that despised him for the sake of his friend, trying not to meet anyone’s eye.

Finally, Finn came out, and as soon as he saw Ben again, his eyes narrowed.

“The hell, man—are you following me?”

What was he supposed to say to this guy?

“I… uh… I just—”

“Listen, I’m busy. I’ve got no time for this. Whatever it is, you can—”

“Rey told me you talked.”

Finn’s expression flattened.

“What about it?”

“You don’t need to give Rey a hard time about it.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and he gritted his teeth. This wasn’t how he wanted to approach things, but the guy was being difficult. But should he have expected any better?

Finn let out a humorless huff. “You an expert in consideration now, Solo? Just because you’re going out with Rey—what, are we all supposed to be BFFs now?”

“Look…” He chomped on his lips. “Whatever reasons Dameron gave you, just… you could leave Rey out of it. I’m staying out of your hair, so just… you’re her friend. You don’t need to give her grief about this. It’s between Dameron and me. No one else—especially not Rey.”

Finn’s face was morphing, brows furrowed and a crooked smile that still held no humor but looked more and more like disbelief.

“You don’t remember. I can’t believe it. You think… you think—oh, wow.” And then he slapped his palm over his temple.

What the hell was he going on about?

He went on, “Motherfucker. All these years—and you don’t even remember.”

“What?”

Finn tossed his chin. “How’d you like Poe’s artwork?”

“What…?”

“Your boat. You do remember that, don’t you?”

“How the fuck could I forget? I spent—I spent days sanding that shit off. I thought Dameron did that alone, but you… Are you really gloating about that right now?”

“I didn’t help him. No one helped him.”

Red dicks all over the weathered wood. And then—

_UR MOM SHD HAVE ABORTED U_

It had been so vile, having his boat violated that way. The one place in the world where he knew peace. And those words… He’d already known then just what his existence had meant for his mom’s career, and for Dameron, of all people, to spell it out like that… it only confirmed that other people saw it the same way after they found out that she’d been on her way to becoming something big. Fuck Dameron, and fuck Dameron’s mom for telling him—because where else would he have heard it from?

He thought he’d been doing a decent job of forgetting it all, but this…

“Why d’you think he did it?” Finn’s voice grated.

“What? Like you don’t know how your _friend_ got off on that kind of shit? Mr. Popularity putting people in their place just because he can?”

He knew it back then, with the way that sonofabitch sidled up to his mom every chance he got for good boy points. And Leia had showered her friend’s son with praises in school programs, and oh, how he’d reveled in the attention. He was getting so good in classical guitar— _isn’t he, Ben? Don’t you want a piano solo in the next program, too?_

He couldn’t believe he’d actually wanted to make things right with Finn. This guy… this guy who stood by someone like Dameron. How could Rey be friends with people like these?

“You told me that Poe collected _people like me_.”

What?

“I don’t know, Solo… I just thought it was in terribly bad taste to say something like that to a kid about his parents who’d just died.”

_What?_

“What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t remember.”

“I—fuck, I don’t—I barely remember you. Did we even—? I don’t have any memory of talking to you.”

“Middle school. Just moved here to live with my grandma. They’d been making a… a stupid fuss about me being new and my mom and dad. Helluva time I had, let me tell ya. So the teacher puts me in music club, and of course _that_ gets brought up again, but whatever. And you were there, playing the piano. I thought you were amazing.” There was that harsh chuckle again. “I told you—I said, ‘You and Poe are so good. I wish you could teach me to be as good as you.’ And you know what you told me? You said, ‘Oh, careful with that one, he collects people _just like you_.’ Why the fuck would you say something like that to me?”

Ben was shaking his head, and his mouth was open as he tried to form words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. I guess that was just the norm for you, huh?”

“Gods—I would never—I would never have said something like that.”

“But you did! And you almost snapped my fingers off when you slammed the lid on that piano!”

“No, no. I swear—gods. Listen. I hate Dameron, sure—just as much as he hates me—and you fucking know it! But I would never say that, not now, not then, if I’d known your history. I swear!”

He ran a shaking hand over his hair. He was breathing hard. Gods. What was this box he’d opened?

He went on, “I’m not—I’m not a fucking monster! I probably only meant—well, it’s Dameron, and he likes having people following him—fans—call it what you want. You know what he’s like, so don’t you deny it! No. Just—no. I never meant it like that.”

Finn was staring off into space, his eyes wide, lost in his own memories. This whole thing—this whole thing had been a huge misunderstanding. There was relief in that realization, but it couldn’t kill years and years of hatred and anger just like that.

“So… you didn’t know that’s why Poe graffitied your boat.”

“No.”

“He never got in trouble for it. I thought—I thought it was because you’d never told because of what you said.”

He felt drained. Sapped of all emotions, and what was left was a weak wash of phantom memories. That year—the summer after that boat incident, he’d left for Uncle Luke’s. And then high school had been him just trying to take things a day at a time. He’d made up his mind to leave. And he had, and he thought he’d had a life away from it all.

But what had changed, really?

Well… there was Rey.

The thought of her brought him back to the present. Back to his reason for wanting to talk to Finn.

In the empty calm, he found his words.

“Listen. I’ve told you the truth—what I know to be true. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. You can—you can go on hating me as much as you like. But don’t take it out on Rey. Please. I think you know how important you are to her. She tells me, you know, about you and Rose. I have no intentions of taking that away from her—or you. But she’s important to me, too. Too important.” He shook his head. “I don’t want her to even think that she has to choose. I swear to you, I’m not going to make her.”

No words from Finn. Maybe he should be grateful that the guy wasn’t spitting at him anymore.

He went on, “So… that’s that, I guess.”

More silence. And so he turned to leave, but when he’d taken a few steps, Finn spoke up.

“Rey doesn’t know. About the boat thing. Nobody else knows. I’m the only one Poe told.”

There was nothing more to say.

When he left, Finn was still frozen in place. The shop fronts and brick and concrete walls were all a blur as he walked past them, and the people and their noises and their lives flowed all around him on the sidewalk. It felt like he was moving on slow autopilot, his destination pre-programmed so that all his processors could focus on parsing the deluge of information they’d just received.

Had he really been that bad?

He’d been honest when he said he couldn’t remember, but the fact that uncertainty now sat in his gut heavier than the food he just ate… Whether his outburst back then had been the product of Dameron goading a reaction out of him or not, and regardless of just how much or how little he’d known of Finn’s background, it had been, at best, a petty thing to say. And so much worse to hear, it turned out, for one in such a vulnerable state. Words so carelessly, so spitefully thrown at someone who’d been _admiring_ him at the time—sure, he was young and stupid, but still… Finn had been even younger, and shit like that stuck.

Those words on his boat… no wonder. All this time, he’d been thinking Dameron was a sick, sadistic, false-faced bastard for what he’d done, when the truth was that it had been for his friend. No less cruel, no more justifiable, but it was just… different this time in the light of this new knowledge. And he’d been wrong, too, when he thought the ass had bragged about the incident to his friends, certain he did it to let as many people as he could know just how much of a loser loner Ben Solo was.

What else had he gotten wrong? What other destructive assumptions had he let loose inside the shell of his isolation all this time?

His autopilot brought him to the bright façade of M-porium, and even in the dispassion that had held him in its grip over the last however many minutes, he found Rey’s smile infectious. He’d texted her on the bus earlier that he’d drop by—he was done with surprises after the last week—but he didn’t tell her he got her food. He had to laugh when her face lit up even more as her eyes zeroed in on the paper bag he held up. It was just too easy. There was no one in line, and so he walked right up to the counter, dropped the paper bag on it, then bent forward and reached for her.

She was all that was good, all that was right, and she was right here in his arms. He had a long way to go, and he understood now that his lessons would break him before he was made better, but having her with him, well… he had a feeling things would be okay.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, and her voice was a benediction that spoke straight to his heart.

“Ben…”

 

*******


	11. Chapter 11

*******

 

Ben woke up feeling like crap, and as he sat up, shivering, the absence of morning sunlight disoriented him even more until it came to him that the sun wasn’t even fully out yet. He realized this wasn’t the usual doldrums that he’d only recently gotten over, but that he was actually feeling physically off. A nightmare hand was squeezing his head, and the stickiness behind his nose made him imagine, in his half-awake state, that plugging a hose up one of his nostrils and letting cold water wash the awful sensation away would be absolute heaven.

His nose had been itchy at work all night, and he’d gone to bed with a mild sniffle. He’d thought nothing of it as colds rarely bothered him, but it seemed whatever he’d picked up was here to stay for the moment. He slapped the back of his heavy hand against his neck and groaned when the excessive warmth only confirmed that he was, indeed, sporting a fever.

This couldn’t be happening today. It was his Tuesday with Rey.

Maybe he’d attracted this negative energy when part of him began dreading telling Rey about what transpired yesterday with Finn. He’d decided when he went to see her at the store that he’d put off that conversation till today because he didn’t want to get into it when they didn’t have a lot of time. And now here he was, facing the possibility of not even seeing her on her day off.

He flopped back down on his bed and wrapped his blanket around him. He barely mustered the energy to send Rey a message. A rain check was the last thing he wanted, but going out would be impossible in his condition. Maybe they could still meet up for a late lunch if he was feeling better, but by then a good chunk of the day would be gone already. He drifted off again, half of him hoping she’d reply and the other half that he wouldn’t wake her up too early only to have her worry about him, and he was weighed down even more by the prospect of disappointing her.

When next his eyes fluttered open, it was to someone knocking on his door, and then there was the muffled sound of talking. A quick glance at his phone told him that he’d slept another four hours, and there was a message notification—likely Rey—but there was little use reading it now as it seemed she was already waiting outside. Even in his sorry state, his heart managed to skip an excited beat, and as he made his way to the door, the room spun a little. He’d showered last night before going to bed as usual, but he knew he looked as bad as he felt. There was no helping it now.

The worry in her eyes was the first thing that greeted him, but he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. He took a few seconds to decide that he didn’t care that his dad was right there, too, because he really wanted to have her in his arms, and so they found their way around her shoulders and on top of her backpack. He closed his eyes in bliss as she hugged him back after her own moment of hesitation, which he put down to shyness in the presence of his dad. The coolness of her skin was a curse and a blessing, but he knew he could stay just like this with her for the rest of the day. He took care to keep his face away from hers.

She grunted, likely because he was putting a bit too much of his weight on her smaller frame.

“Oh, Ben, you’re too warm. Do you hurt anywhere?” Her hands rubbed his back in short, slow motions.

“Just my head. A little. G’morning to you, too.” His voice was a nasal rasp.

A hand touched his forehead as he bent over Rey. His dad tsk-ed.

“Why’s it that I had to hear it from Rey that you’re sick?” As his dad spoke, the hand moved over his face, a comforting touch even in its briskness, and then against the side of his neck. “You should have called me or your mom. Is it your throat? How long have you been hot?”

For whatever reason, Rey chuckled against his shirt.

“Just this morning when I woke up. It’s not so bad, I don’t think—better than earlier, for sure. I mean I managed to get up.” And then to Rey, he directed, “What’s funny?”

She only shook her head, but he was sure he could feel just how wide the smile she pressed against him was.

“Are you hungry?” his dad continued. “Do you want some breakfast? ‘Course you want breakfast. You need to keep your strength up. I’ll make you some chicken congee. You two get inside. You better get back into bed.”

And then his dad walked down the stairs without even waiting for a reply. But after only a few steps, he stopped and turned to look at them again. Han’s mouth twitched as though he was trying to find his words.

Ben lifted his eyebrows in question at his dad as Rey disentangled from him.

“You two…” Han wiggled a finger at them. “Don’t—don’t give Rey your germs.” And then he pointed to his own lips. “Keep ‘em inside your mouth for now. And other things.”

“Dad, please!”

Rey covered her face with her hands.

“Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m just saying be careful—you don’t want Rey getting sick, too.”

And then his dad was gone, and Rey was snorting behind her hands.

“Oh, gods… your dad…”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s… I’m not sure if I want to laugh or jump out your window.”

“He’s right, though. Kissing’s not the best idea right now.” He sighed.

“Just one… tiny…?” She begged with her eyes and her little pout.

“No.” He chuckled. “You know I’d love nothing more, but… bad enough that I’ve ruined our day without me making you sick, too.”

“Fine.” She pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder instead. Why did she have to be so cute? “And you haven’t ruined our day, you know.”

He took her wrist and led her into his room, straight to his bed, where they sat next to each other. “I haven’t really said anything to him about… you know. He got there all on his own.”

“It’s cute seeing your dad fussing over you. I can just imagine how much they worried when you went away for school. Rose tells me her mom and dad are like that, too. It’s like you go back to being five for them when you’re sick—doesn’t matter how old you are.”

There was something wistful in her smile and in the faraway look in her eyes. He had a suspicion about what that was all about, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time to examine it, unless she brought it up herself. But she didn’t, and instead she dug into her bag. There was a rustling from inside it, and then she pulled out a plastic bag.

“I forgot to ask Han if I could borrow a knife and maybe a pitcher. I bought limes and ginger.”

There was that shy little smile on her face again, and he wished so bad that he could taste it right now. Instead, he tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.

“I’m really happy you came, Rey.”

“I wouldn’t miss our second date for the world, don’t you know?”

“This is a date, too, huh?”

“Of course. I even got drinks.” She shook the plastic bag in her hand. “Just need to assemble it first.”

It was so easy, he thought as he laughed, to forget the aches of his body and his spirit when she was with him. He snuck his arm around her shoulders and brought her close for a quick squeeze. And he couldn’t help it after all, and so he placed the most tight-lipped kiss he could manage on the side of her head, just above her temple.

“I hate to put you out, but I don’t think it’s gonna look good if I get butter legs in front of my date. Not on the stairs, anyway.” He grinned at her because he couldn’t imagine winking.

“Oh? Is there a good time to get butter legs with your date?”

“Uh… after certain activities? When you’re really satisfied, can’t take any more, you’re just wiped out—that kind of thing. You know—like eating.”

“That’s how you get when you’ve… eaten something really good, huh?” Her smile was very warm.

He laughed, and then went on before they derailed again.

“If Dad’s not in the kitchen downstairs, just go on inside the main house and holler.”

“Okay. Get comfy. I’ll be quick.”

He curled up in his bed when she left. They had the entire day, if she wasn’t planning on going anywhere else, and they’d be spending it in his room. He chuckled at the irony of having her in his bed but being too sick to indulge in anything resembling his many fantasies with her. He wondered if he’d be well enough by late afternoon to get to work.

There was a quick knock on his door, and his dad strode in.

“Got you some aspirin.”

“Is Rey downstairs?”

“She’s in the kitchen at the house. Making you limeade. Food’s on the way, too.”

His dad placed a packet on Ben’s desk and then took his mug to the bathroom. There was the sound of running water, and then Han came back out and handed him the mug. He popped a tablet out of its packaging.

“Take this. Should help.”

“Thanks. Hey, Dad, about tonight, I—”

“Don’t want your germs on everybody’s food, son. Let’s see about tomorrow. Just rest up for now.”

“Okay.”

He was left by himself again, and he wondered what he and Rey could do. The day was shaping up better than he’d anticipated, after all. As he brushed his teeth and washed his face, he thought maybe they could watch stuff on his laptop. Not quite the movie theater, but it could be nice, and it got him wondering what kind of movies Rey liked. He remembered reading about how someone’s movie preferences said a lot about them, but at this point, he doubted whatever she enjoyed would change his mind about how much he liked her. Unless it was torture thrillers, which would be beyond a simple side-eye, in his opinion.

When she came in through the door balancing a pitcher, two glasses and a familiar-looking flat box in her hands, he jumped up to help her, but she tut-tutted him away.

“Han won’t let me help him. I wasn’t sure if you’d like the drink cold or hot, though, so I hope cold’s okay.”

“Cold’s perfect.”

“Sit your ass back down,” she ordered as he tried to get up.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, and then he added as she poured him a glass, “I could get used to this. My own personal Nurse Rey.”

“Keep it up and I’ll find some place to stick a thermometer into.”

“Okay, Miss Nurse Rey.”

She handed him his glass and gave him a wry smile. “Not your nurse.”

“What are you, then?” he teased.

And then his grin slid off his face and his breath caught as she took her time sipping from her own glass. Her cheeks were pink.

_What was she?_

“Shut up, Ben.” But there was a small smile on her lips dampened by her drink.

He escaped into his own glass and took a big gulp. And then started coughing as the strong ginger taste burned its way down.

“Oh, gods—sorry—is it too strong?”

His watering eyes agreed, but he only said, “Just a bit.”

Thank heavens she made it cold. He couldn’t imagine more heat on top of this burn.

“We could—we could water it down—I can get some more sugar—”

“Oh, no, no—it’s good, really. I just forgot about the ginger.”

“Sorry—sorry—it’s just that it’s supposed to be good for colds.”

He could believe that. The brew felt potent enough to destroy the plague on contact. Or even just on approach. Maybe if his sense of smell hadn’t been off, he’d have had more of a warning. But to reassure her, he took another more careful sip. And then another, when he found that it wasn’t as shockingly gingery as the very first mouthful.

She made this for him. His sweet, Not-Nurse Rey. His heart gave another little flutter.

“It’s good. Very fresh. I’m feeling better already.”

She tsk-ed, and then elbowed him.

“So now that you’ve loosened me up with a drink, I think I’m ready for more excitement. D’you have anything you want to do?”

“I have many things I want to do.” And then there was a gleam in her eyes, and her voice dipped low. “A lot of them not very viable right now.”

“Oh?”

Man, half of the time, he wasn’t sure if she was flirting, but he sure loved it. He would never have put himself down for a sap, and yet here he was, one goofy smile after another at the things she said. And finding himself saying things in kind. Making her eyes dance and her cheeks bloom was his new favorite pastime.

“I… got too excited about being here with you.” He loved it even more when she went with it. She bit her lip. “I even brought something for us to play with…”

Fuck. How she made his imagination go wild. It wasn’t the ginger that was making him tingly now, for sure.

“Yeah?”

Her voice was playfully breathless. “Yeah. I thought you might like it. But now that I think about it, I’m not sure you’re ready for this much excitement…”

What the hell did she bring with her? Was she trying to titillate him to death?

As she spoke, her face came closer and closer to his, making his heart thunder, and then she reached over him. The arch of her back, the way her ponytail flicked over her shoulder, the way she crowded him as she riffled inside her bag—he was certain she knew just how she affected him. And then from its depths, she brought out… a pack of cards.

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I forgot Last One’s not a two-player game. Whoops.”

The witch.

He grabbed a pillow and smacked her head with it.

“Violence is not the answer, Ben!” she squealed.

She made him hot. She made him happy. She made him nervous in all the best ways. She was a roller coaster ride he never wanted to get off of. She wiped tears from her eyes as their laughter fed off of each other.

“Don’t think I’ll forget this.”

They opted to watch something over playing the board game she’d brought over from the main house which his dad apparently told her he’d loved—when he was twelve. As he woke his laptop up, she teased him about giving him time to close his porn tabs. She dragged the armchair close to his desk, right next to his own chair, and refused his help with it. And then asked like the adorable being that she was if it was okay if she took off her shoes. As they deliberated on what to watch, the feeling of her bare toes over his own foot was just another of those things that made his cup overflow.

They were about fifteen minutes into the subtitled animated movie when his dad came in with two big bowls of peppery chicken congee. Han told them he’d be going out but to call him if they needed anything. Shortly after that, they heard his truck driving away.

Ben was feeling better from the aspirin he’d taken—or maybe more because Rey was here—and as they ate hot spoonfuls of the savory, soupy rice, he was distracted from watching when he thought of how such an ordinary, quiet day with him in the sweatpants he’d slept in and an old ratty shirt and Rey barefoot next to him slurping on a plain, homemade meal made him feel so alive. And when she’d finished eating, she put her bowl down, wrapped her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder.

She surprised him when she asked if he wanted “dessert,” which turned out to be chocolate raisins from her bottomless bag. And yet again when, as the movie neared its end, she blinked back tears at the story’s bittersweet resolution.

They watched an ending sequence through the credits, and as the pretty illustrations faded in and out of the screen, the energy of the movie—which went into how the hero almost missed his opportunity at happiness—got to him.

He had to know now.

“Rey…” he began.

“Hmm?”

Her head was a sweet weight against his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against it and took her hand.

“What are we?”

There were no words for a moment, only the music from the movie which, even though it was in a foreign language, he was sure sang of hopes and dreams.

She looked up at him, and her eyes shone with the mist of her tears from what they’d just watched, and something else.

“I think you know.”

He felt like he was about to jump off from somewhere up high, and his stomach was gyroscoping like crazy. Like the moment demanded that he be brave. Which was funny, because he’d never felt safer than when he was with her. He chomped on his lips.

“Okay. But just to be sure, just so there’s no confusion about it… Rey, I want you to know that you… you make me feel things. Like… like I’ve never felt for anyone else. And… I want us to keep at this… you know. Just you and me.”

She got off her chair and settled on his lap, and then her arms were around him, her face buried in his neck.

“Just you and me… Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

There was a catch in her voice, and a sniffle. His own throat felt tight, his jaw stinging in emotion.

“Telling you, more like. I don’t want anything less.”

He cupped the back of her head and tried to turn it so he could see her face, but for some reason, she was resisting.

“You’ve made me cry.” She chuckled.

“Hey.”

Maybe this was better. He wouldn’t be able to resist kissing her if she looked at him right now, he thought. The memory of his dad’s words made him snort in ill-timed amusement.

“I’m sorry for saying this now when I can’t even kiss you.” He pressed his lips on top of her head instead. “This stupid cold.”

She finally pulled back. Her hand trembled as she wiped at her eye. As did her smiling lips. She was so pretty, and he was so damned lucky.

And then she grabbed the loose collar of his shirt and tugged it over his mouth. And then laid her own lips over it. He was so surprised that for a few seconds he froze, his brain overloading as it deliberated whether this was okay or not. But he gave in because she’d found a way, and really, he wanted this so, so much, too.

So fucking sweet, this girl. _His_ girl.

They kept their lips mashed together—forced into chasteness by his shirt, but no less delicious for it—for who knew how long, even as they both began chuckling. And even after they pulled their faces apart, he held her close. This was where she belonged.

“I’m gonna steal this shirt,” she told him, “and I’m never going to wash it. It’s got our first official kiss.”

 _Official_. It blew his mind. It was one of those words that was always annoying when someone described their relationship as such, especially online. Like it was a label just for the sake of ticking some kind of social checklist.

But now he wanted to stand on the roof of this dad’s diner and shout out loud to the rest of the world that he, miserable loser-loner Ben Solo, was now with Rey Kenobi, Best Girl. Not to brag, but because he felt like his emotions would make him explode from how full he felt.

There was a newness in the way their eyes landed on each other, in the way their fingers traced the lines of each other’s faces, in the way they squeezed each other’s shoulders and backs. It felt almost sacred, this silent cataloguing of the other, and he wanted this moment seared in his mind forever.

And then she said, “You know… I had a bit of a crush on you in high school.”

_What?_

“Really?” A grin split his face. “Are you serious?”

She cupped the sides of his head and squeezed. “Stop. Don’t get a big head quite yet. It was more like… hmm… you intrigued me.”

“Well, don’t stop now.”

“Tsk. I was cramming homework on the stairs one day, and I accidentally kicked my book over the side. So it lands maybe two flights down. You kind of met me halfway with it in your hand, and you were all—” her voiced dipped low in a comical imitation of his “—‘This yours?’ And then you hand it to me and jog right back down. I thought it was nice of you to come up just to give it to me, so it stuck.”

“Huh. I don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah, well… that’s what I mean. It was just a little thing, but it was a nice gesture. I didn’t even know your name. So I’d see you once in a while and remember that. You were always by yourself. I noticed because… you know… I was a bit of a loner, too. You see that kind of thing and you know. I guess it helped that you were kind of cute, too.”

He laughed at that last bit, and he was sure he was blushing. “You had friends, though—you said.”

“I did, but it wasn’t like we were together all the time. And…” She tilted her head and looked up, as if trying to sift through her memories. “I think that was early in the school year. I hadn’t gotten too close with Rose and Finn yet. That’s right, because after that, I remember… well…”

She bit her lip and looked at him, like she was hesitating about the next part.

“What?”

“I remember, when Finn pointed you out.”

Suddenly her story wasn’t just a cute thing anymore. He was about to find out some more of the consequences of his words back then.

She went on, watchful of his reaction, he thought. “Just remember this happened in the past, Ben. I knew Finn and Poe didn’t like you, and vice versa. So I was shocked when I found out it was my book guy. My friends… well… they had their opinion, but I had that memory of you. Then you became this even bigger puzzle in my mind. I noticed you even more. I find out who you are from the stuff I’d hear. You always looked like you were mad at the world, and I wondered why. I even saw you once on the lake. So… yeah.”

“So… you knew that much about me from back then?”

She caressed his earlobe. “Well… it was really just bits and pieces I’d hear. I knew you left town after high school. And then Rose brings me here one day because she said the food’s nice, and whenever I go back, Han would talk about you. I guess it’s ’cause we’re from the same school. He bragged about you all the time, you know, about how you got into FOU. And being part of the row team and winning races.

“And… well… I was—how do I say this? I was very aware of you when you came back. Han didn’t say why, but I got the impression something happened. So I’d catch glimpses of you in the kitchen when you worked. I guess—I guess my point is you’ve been in my mind for a long time.”

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know how to process the idea that someone other than his parents and Chewie had actually given that much thought to his existence, and for that long—a version of him, at least. And it was Rey, of all people. The events of the past month raced through his head, and suddenly it was all framed differently. She had context of him through every single thing that had happened, even from the very beginning.

“Are you mad?” she asked, her big eyes clouded with worry.

“What? No, of course not. Why would I be? This is just… blowing my mind. I had no idea.”

And then he remembered something, and he groaned.

“Dear gods… so that time downstairs—the stupid shit I said to you—”

She let out a huff of laughter. “I was shocked you came out of the kitchen and walked up to me. I’ll be honest, Ben: you shattered me a little when you said those things.”

“Rey—Rey—I’m sorry—”

He buried his face in her neck again and squeezed her hard against him.

“Stop, stop. We’re done with that.” She kissed his ear. “I’m just happy it’s you, Ben.”

Prophets, this girl. She kept surprising him. And her revelations just added another dimension to what they had together.

“I wish I knew you back then. Maybe you’d have straightened me up sooner and I wouldn’t be this much of an ass.”

“Don’t talk like that, you doof.”

He breathed her scent in—what little of it he could through his malfunctioning sense of smell. He sighed happily against her neck.

“So you thought I was cute, huh?”

She tugged hard at his hair and jumped off his lap.

She gathered the bowls they’d used, and he tried to take them from her, but Rey pushed him down again and padded off to rinse them in his bathroom. She took her time, and when she got back to him checking patch notes on his game, she told him Rose played it, too, but that she’d never tried it. He answered her questions about it as she leaned over his shoulder, and then he decided to just get the game up and show it to her. She wrapped her arms around him—gods, it felt so wonderfully natural already—as he demoed a few bot rounds.

She told him she wanted to see how well he did against other actual players, but as he got into a match, her fingers tracing shapes on his collarbone proved to be distracting. He kept up his running commentary as best as he could. But her voice and her warm breath so close to his ear made the little hairs on his nape stand, and he gritted his teeth and soldiered on like his little army of colorful heroes.

When her lips pressed a damp kiss on his neck, he let out a little breathless huff.

“What are you doing, Rey?”

“Watching you play.” Her husky voice made more than his hair stand now.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much.”

He couldn’t help himself. “Yeah? I’m sure I’d love watching you play, too.”

A puff of breath. Her hand taking a longer, slower path across his chest.

“I’m not as good as you. You’ve got great hand-eye coordination. I’d be clicking all over the place.”

“It’s just practice. You just need to practice… clicking your mouse.”

Another gasp from her. Another wet kiss. Another lost round.

“Your hand’s so much bigger than mine, though.” He was so aware of the press of her breasts against his back. And then she laid her hand over his on the mouse and ran her middle finger up and down his. “I think it’ll be easier for you to hit all the right buttons.”

His eyes shuttered. If she looked down, she’d see just how clearly her words were affecting him. A misclick that cost him another round belied her words. His player ID had dropped to last place.

He was playing a completely different game now, and this one, he was far less willing to lose.

“You’re not all that bad. You handle wood all the time. You were working that stick really well the other day.”

“Mm… was I? If you have some wood lying around… I could work on it if you like.”

Fuck. His hips wanted to lift off of the chair. And where had his breath gone? The words were harder to come by now that his blood had left his brain for other places.

“Uh… maybe—maybe you can find it yourself, huh.”

The trembling of her hand as she moved it back to his torso told him that the game wasn’t easy for her, either. The muscles of his abdomen jumped when her fingers feathered over them.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh-huh.” That was all he could manage, really.

It didn’t feel like a tease anymore, with how short her breaths had gotten, and how she’d lost her words. There wasn’t anything playful on her face when he looked at her—just the gentle gravity of discovery in those hazel eyes. He pressed his lips to the line of her jaw.

When she brushed her hand against him over the material of his sweatpants, he shuddered. He didn’t think he could get any harder as she held him, and he had to focus all of his being on not coming from just the soft touch. Her fingers slid up and down his shaft, and when she reached farther down and cupped his balls, he let out a helpless little grunt. Maybe all those nights he’d furiously masturbated had killed off some of his nerves, after all, just enough to build up this surprising reserve of willpower.

Was this really happening?

Already, he could feel himself leaking, and he was sure it wouldn’t take much more for him to explode all over her hand.

His eyes snapped open at the thought.

No condoms.

_Fuck._

“Wait—wait—”

He stilled her hand. How the hell was he going to explain this to her? He wanted her—gods knew he did, so much—but he still hadn’t gotten around to buying protection. Or… was he getting ahead of himself again? Maybe she just wanted to give him a hand job. Or maybe he couldn’t even presume that much, and her exploration was really just… that.

He didn’t know anything. It was so fucking hard to think when all he wanted was to get as close to her as she’d let him.

“Is—is this too much?” she asked.

It was too much. And too little.

He sprang up, grabbed her, and sat her across from him on the other chair—all but threw her into it. And then he sat back down, plopped his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, and pressed his palms against his closed eyes. Every muscle of his body clenched in frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and let out a pained laugh. He might as well just give it to her straight. He looked at her beautiful, confused face.

“You feel too fucking good, is what. Everything you do, everything you say. And if I let you keep touching me, I’ll go crazy, but the problem is… well… the problem is I don’t have anything on me.”

It wasn’t the only problem. There was also the matter of him not knowing just how to proceed. But that one was harder to explain.

She shook her head, not getting what he’s saying.

Oh, gods.

“I don’t have condoms.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay.”

They looked at each other across the two feet that separated them—which might as well have been two thousand, because he didn’t dare come any closer with how wound up he was. In the background, the game music mocked him for losing not just the match, but this thing right now with Rey, too.

“Okay,” she said again.

And then—

“Touch yourself then.”

_What?_

“What?” Did he really just hear that from her?

Her eyes had a frustrated glint on them.

“You’re not exactly saying no to me.”

He supposed that that, technically, was true.

She went on, “If I can’t touch you—if I can’t take care of you, then I want to see you do it yourself.”

Was she asking to watch him _masturbate?_

“Rey… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

This was… an unexpected side of Rey. The set of her jaw told him that this wasn’t her being playful. Her knuckles were white on the armrests of her chair. She seemed almost angry, even. And for some reason, it made him want to poke at that fire even more.

And so he leaned back in his own chair, and in one swift motion, he popped his cock free. His cheeks burned at his own boldness. He watched her face as her eyes zeroed in on it, and her shaky exhalation of breath punched him in the gut. He knew there was nothing deliberate about the way she bit her lip, and it was all the more sexy for it. He wanted to nip that bit of pink flesh from between her teeth with his own, but he supposed that was for another time.

He grabbed himself by the base and squeezed.

“So is this what you wanted to see?”

He stroked himself once for her, and he didn’t miss the way her knees squeezed together. The way her eyes shuttered, or how she sucked her lips in. Trying to contain her want.

What she said next, he didn’t expect either, and it was at odds with how she was pulling her body in.

“Your penis is as beautiful as the rest of you.”

She had some pretty words on her, and he knew she wouldn’t lie to him. So she really did think that. Her breathless declaration melted his spine and empowered him all at once.

She’d demanded a show. He’d give her a good one.

He wished he could see her, too, but that wasn’t the most important thing right now.

He pumped his cock in his hand for her, a slow, steady motion in contrast with her harsh breathing and the galloping of his own heart, each stroke stretching and pulling at his skin so that the head played peekaboo. This was easier, he thought, than if he’d let her continue earlier. At least he was in control, and he wouldn’t have finished in thirty seconds flat. He made sure she saw every inch of him, and so he pulled himself away from his stomach, and then played with the bead of liquid that had formed at the tip—spread it around with his finger and painted a stripe down his shaft so it would catch the light for her.

He watched her as she watched him, and he could see her color rising with her own arousal. He liked her like this—excited and fidgety. For him. _He did this to her_. He hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was like this already.

 _He wasn’t the only one_.

He closed his eyes and sped up the motion of his hand. He reveled in the sensations, and in the knowledge that soon, even this would be nothing compared to when he finally buried himself in her wet warmth.

Fuck.

“You do this to me, Rey. So fucking easily. Get me so hard and so desperate for you.”

She was pressing a fist at the juncture of her thighs, but still not close to where she needed it. So she asked for a show but was holding back on getting some relief herself. Her other hand was by her mouth, where her teeth worried the knuckle of her thumb.

“Touch yourself. You don’t have to show me anything. But I want you feeling good, too. I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

He could see her throat working, but the fist on her lap unfurled and slowly made its way inside her shorts. She didn’t tell him to look away, either. He thought he heard the squelching sound of her fingers as she dipped into her wetness—gods, what he’d give to have a taste. She kept adjusting herself on the armchair, as if she couldn’t quite get comfortable, and then his eyes about bugged out when she pulled her shorts and underwear off completely.

“They were in the way,” she offered as explanation.

Nope. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

He could see, even though she took her bottoms off herself, that she was still battling with her modesty. She wouldn’t open her knees more than a few inches apart, and he couldn’t really see anything—not that he was trying particularly hard when he wasn’t sure she’d welcome it. It didn’t seem like she was doing this to reciprocate, but because she’d finally given in to the need of finding her own relief. And she still had her shirt on.

He stretched his leg out and laid his foot on top of hers. Just a little contact, the barest that he could allow himself.

“Do it right, Rey. Take what you need. I won’t look—it’s okay.”

He slammed his eyes shut again, and it wasn’t difficult at all to still see her behind his lids. Everything he hadn’t seen yet, he can fill in for now with his imagination, just like he’d done every other night the past few weeks. He can hear her breathing, and that maddening wet squelch, and under his toes, he could feel a bit of how her body thrummed—that is, until she pulled her foot from under him, and he felt the loss keenly, until he heard her saying his name.

“Ben…”

It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, the sweetest sound he’d ever know.

“Ben…”

And it was made even sweeter by the melody of her want, the accompaniment of her little moans tugging at him. He was so close.

“Ben…”

Her voice was breaking, and he knew she was close, too.

“Ben!”

At that harsh crescendo, he opened his eyes. She was a vision of broken need, blown open for him as her knees splayed wide and high, her shirt rucked up, exposing her breasts and their pink-brown peaks, one of which she was squeezing with her fingers, her lips a soft O as her breaths escaped though them. And her fingers—her fingers were pistoning in and out of her weeping core, her hips undulating.

It all hit him like a freight truck, but then—with the last puff of air she could spare—

“Ben… I need you.”

He couldn’t keep away from her, after all, and he jumped off his chair, his knees smacking hard on the floor right in front of her, and he pulled her close and pulled her hand away. And he was running on instinct because he sure as hell couldn’t think anymore as his own fingers found their way inside her, in that desperate tempo that resonated from every fiber of his being, and his mouth wrapped around her wetness.

And he must have done it right because then she was wailing her broken little song, and she was throbbing against his face, her thighs squeezing his head, her hand pushing him in even closer until he felt like he could drown in her.

And impossibly, without even any contact, his cock erupted, rope after rope of his hot seed landing on his chest and stomach, as if it wanted to spew out his marrow or his very soul while it was at it—so intense that his vision blackened.

When he could breathe again, he kissed his way up her body, the soft hills and valleys of it still racked by the earthquake of what they’d just shared, all the way up to her mouth, forgetting everything—words, germs, his own name—and he let his own lips tell her without speaking just how she rocked his world.

 

*******


	12. Chapter 12

*******

 

Ben had no reference for the state he was in after Rey fled to the bathroom—a shocked, disbelieving ecstasy that fried all his neurons. It rendered him immobile on his bed, almost worse than how he’d been at dawn, the difference being his heart seemed to refuse to slow down as it flooded his entire body with whatever cocktail of feel-good blood juice that overwhelmed the cold he’d all but forgotten.

_Rey._

There was a stupid smile on his face, he was sure, and he was kind of grateful she wasn’t here to see it. Everything felt so raw as he lay with his eyes closed, and aftershocks of sensation sizzled over his sweaty skin. He wanted nothing more in the moment than to fall asleep with the taste and smell of her still so potent on him, and the only thing that could make it even better was if she was in his arms as he did so.

That last thought catalyzed him into crawling out of bed to change into a fresh shirt, which was the least that she deserved. Gods… he’d exploded all over himself, and then gotten the stuff on her, too, when he’d crawled over her to kiss her. The thought made him want to crow in primitive, masculine satisfaction, but he wasn’t sure she’d see it the same way. Some girls would hate that, he knew, and he could only hope she wasn’t one of them.

The mirror next to his wardrobe showed the same face it always had, but everything behind it felt… changed.

_Oh, Rey… what you do to me._

He couldn’t believe what she’d let him do. For her. To her. His face burned at the memory of the show he’d given, of how she’d all but ordered him to put it on for her, of how she responded to it. To _him_. There was no doubt that she’d loved it, not after the sight of her so open for him, or the feel and taste of her against his face… on his lips...

Fuck. He was already stirring in his pants again.

But no more of that for now.

She was taking her time in the bathroom, and he wondered how she was feeling. She’d stumbled away from him soon after… soon after… well, after she’d blown his mind away, but he’d been too out of it to really pay attention. Could she already be regretting what they’d just done? But he caught himself before he could dwell too much on that unwelcome thought. Maybe she was just feeling a bit shy.

He’d have to do his best to make her feel comfortable when she came out. Sit on his bed, as casually as he could manage—but no, not his _bed_ , of all places—but not the chairs, either, where they’d just—

What the hell did it matter? Why did he have to overthink everything?

He sat down at the edge of his bed and groaned.

Still no Rey after another five minutes, according to his watch, and so he walked to the bathroom door. His hand hesitated for a moment before it came down on its surface on a gentle knock.

“Rey?”

“Yeah?” came her muffled reply.

“You okay in there?”

No answer.

But when it seemed like the seconds were stretching too long, the door cracked open. Her eyes were on him for a moment before they dropped to the ground. She was biting her lips, but he was relieved to see there was a little smile there.

“I was just… just washing up.”

“Oh, yeah—of course—”

A breathless little sound, and her mouth working. And back between those teeth went her lips. Prophets, he wanted a nibble himself.

Which only reminded him of how he’s slobbered all over them. After his dad’s warning and an entire morning of restraining himself.

“I, uh, I kissed you after all.”

That broke out her full grin, dimples and all.

“You did.”

“I hope you washed your face. Or… your mouth? I mean—does that work—?” What the fuck was he saying?

She was _laughing_ , the door shaking a little as her hand held the knob.

“I think I’ll be okay. I’ve got the constitution of a tauntaun, I’ve been told.”

“Still.” He sniffled, and then mumbled, “I really don’t want you catching this.”

He stared at her pink cheeks while her eyes bored a hole through his chest. Still through the crack in the door. Was she really okay?

“Do you want to come out now?”

She huffed a little laugh, and finally stepped out of the bathroom. Straight into his arms, and then her face was buried in his chest again. He knew she was avoiding looking at him, and he couldn’t resist teasing her.

“So… was that okay?”

She groaned and squeezed him tighter.

“Oh, Ben… I’m in trouble.”

He froze. They didn’t even go all the way. What was this?

“What do you mean?”

“I want you too much. I mean I knew already, but now… How the heck am I going to keep my hands off of you?”

He laughed in relief. Gods, she was fucking adorable.

“It’s not funny,” she told him as she looked up at his face. But he could see she was battling her own laughter.

He dragged her to sit with him on his bed, and she wrapped herself around him again, her legs over his lap and her arms a ring around his neck. He pressed a kiss on her temple and ran his hand through her hair, which she’d taken out of its tie.

“Then we’ll be in trouble together, huh? You think it’s just you? You think I haven’t thought of little else all this time?”

“Listen to me, Ben.” The wrinkle on her brow as she looked at him was so distractingly cute. “We need to get… get protection. As soon as possible. And we need to have it on us… well… all the time, from now on.”

His face could break, he thought, from how widely he was smiling.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.” She groaned again. “I don’t know how long I can stop myself from jumping you for real.”

“Okay.” He nuzzled her neck. His soft, strong, sexy Rey. Who was just as hungry for him as he was for her. “Rey… you’re fucking amazing. Thank you for being here today. Better than any medicine I could have taken. I could just drink you up. Well… I guess I did, didn’t I?”

She slapped her hand over his mouth. It didn’t really help keep his laughter in.

They stayed that way for many minutes, just breathing each other in, simmering in both the memory of the little taste they’d had and the promise of more to come.

And then, in an almost-whisper, so close to his ear, “Are we going too fast?”

Her eyes searched his.

“Do you think we are?”

“I just… I just wanted to know what you think. I kind of attacked you today. I just don’t want you thinking I’m forcing you into things.”

Sweet girl.

But her earnest question deserved an answer that was neither glib nor cute. And so he thought of the time they’d spent together, and of how far they’d come. Sure, it hadn’t been a week yet since they’d opened up about their feelings. But before that, they’d been friends—and just in that short time, she’d been the best he’d ever had. And even then, when he didn’t have any expectations beyond that—not any real ones, anyway—she’d made him so happy.

And then he realized that that happiness hadn’t been just from their friendship, or this new thing, or how excited she made him feel, but he was becoming happier about himself, too. She’d done that. She was just so good to him, and for him.

Could he hope that it was the same for her?

And so he told her, “We’ve had, what, a month of knowing each other. It’s been the best month of my life, Rey. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And you said you’ve been curious about me for longer—heh. So… no. I mean… some people, don’t they go on first dates just to bone right away?”

“Hmm… that’s different, though.”

“I guess what I’m saying is we’ll just go at our own pace. I think we’re doing okay. Aren’t we? You can tell me if you think otherwise.”

That cleared away some of the clouds from her face.

“I like the sound of that. But… can I ask you to promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“If your—if anything changes, I need you to tell me.”

He almost brushed it off as ridiculous, but her eyes were still dead serious. What they had was made stronger by honesty, and if it ever came to an end the way she thought it could, he’d want it to be honest until that last moment.

“Of course. Yes, I promise. And… same goes for you.”

“Okay.”

She pressed a firm, closed-mouth kiss on his lips.

“Stop that.” But there wasn’t much weight behind his resistance.

“Ben.”

“Hmm?”

“All this cheese is making me think of pizza.”

And all this Rey in his life was turning him into a laugh machine.

But he did get her pizza.

 

*******

 

His dad got back from his errand—thank the seven heavens he’d taken his sweet time at it—and when he checked in on them, they were sprawled on the floor, trying to steal play money and territory from each other over the board game she’d brought back from the house earlier. Rey had her cards on the empty pizza box, but Ben was sure she had a few more hidden somewhere on her person. She winked at Ben and asked Han if he wanted to join, to which his dad replied he wasn’t in the mood to make amateurs cry.

Soon after, there was the familiar sound of a truck engine, and Ben remembered how exactly a week ago, Rose had come with the Tico’s delivery. He recounted the awkward meeting to Rey, who told him that Rose had mentioned it. She looked out of his window, and let out a whoop of disbelief that Rose was here again today.

“What the heck… I don’t know why she isn’t in class. I gotta say hi!”

He watched as Rey slipped on his flip-flops and bounded out the door. There was the pounding of her footsteps down the stairs, and he walked to his window to see.

Rose was far from the cool, cautious person she’d been last week with him, and he could hear _and_ see their excitement as they greeted each other, even though he couldn’t make out their words from where he was. There was a lot of elbow grasping and laughing, and seeing Rey being bubbly with her friend was a new page in the Book of Rey in his mind. He knew they were talking about him from the way she thumbed at his window, and when they put their heads together, at turns serious and giggly, he hoped it was only good things. It tickled him how she suddenly looked shy when Rose poked at her side and laughed out loud.

This was the first time he’d thought of Rey in the context of her being female socially. She was talking to her girl friend the way girls talked about guys. In his experience, such a thing always involved unpleasant tittering and sly looks that set his teeth on edge, and sometimes, they didn’t even hesitate at being more vocal about it. The kind of clique-ish behavior he’d thought she’d enjoyed being part of Dameron’s gang back when he’d been a lot stupider about things. But witnessing this particular conversation between friends, he got to wondering just how much he’d misunderstood people’s intentions all those years ago in his paranoia.

He wondered just how much Rey was revealing, and if the internet was to be believed, girl talk held nothing sacred. He wasn’t going to ask. It was a strange feeling, the idea of being talked about that way. Embarrassing, but also kind of happy-making.

And then they looked up and saw him. Rey waved, but he was surprised when Rose actually addressed him.

“Hey, Ben! Hope you’re feeling better!”

_Ben_ , huh? Not _Solo_.

He almost ducked. He gave her a shaky little wave instead, his face warm. “I am, thanks!”

He scooted back to his bed and left them to finish their conversation.

When Rey walked back into the room and plopped herself right next to him, she was still in that happy bubble from her time with Rose.

“Her professor’s quit, they think. Oh, man, she says it’s going to be tough if they get someone new this late in the semester.”

“Rose seems nice,” he offered.

“She is, very.”

“And… well… I’m glad she doesn’t hate me like—well…”

He hadn’t said anything about the thing yesterday with Finn, and he figured this was as good an opening as he was going to get. The fact didn’t make him any less nervous, though.

And so he asked, “Have you talked to Finn lately?”

“Not since Sunday, no.” She sighed. “I guess we don’t have a lot to say to each other right now.”

He took her hand, hoping to make this easier. For both of them.

“I saw him yesterday, after lunch with Mom.”

“Oh? You didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well… we talked, actually…”

He told her about the encounter, and he wished he didn’t have to replace her smiles with the increasingly concerned look on her face. For both him and Finn, he knew. Her friend had carried this hurt around all these years, and Ben hadn’t even been aware he’d dealt it.

And then he opened up about how it had been with Dameron, from being friendly with him when they were little to the nasty thing their acquaintance—he couldn’t even bear to call it a friendship—had turned into in the end. He was careful not to say anything about what exactly Poe wrote when he graffitied his boat—it was enough that she knew he’d vandalized it, and why.

“And you know what? If I’m completely honest, I think I just hated how he kept trying to impress my mom. I mean he had everybody else already—couldn’t he leave my mom to me? Just… everything came easy to him. I don’t know.” He looked up at his ceiling and sighed, wondering why things seemed so much clearer whenever he talked them out with Rey. “Maybe part of me was envious.”

All of the anger he’d directed at Dameron all this time… he knew now that it was true, that he resented the guy so much because he was smart, well-liked and talented, whereas himself…

Rey broke into his thoughts and entwined their fingers.

“You know, Ben… it’s strange you say that. In all the time I’d known him, sometimes he’d say stuff about you, and I’d think—I thought he was envious of _you_.”

What? Dameron, envious of _him?_

“Eh?”

“Like… all these projects, extracurricular activities… you know.” She chuckled. “Meanwhile you were in your own corner of the world, acing every test. He was always looking at the rank boards as soon as they went up, and I knew exactly why.”

Huh.

“And your mom… he’d go on about her all the time. He’s like a fan, just in awe of her. And you were—from what he’d tell us, he said you didn’t appreciate her enough. And really… his parents… well, if you didn’t know, he ran wild because they couldn’t be bothered. I thought he was always trying to prove he was worthy of affection because he didn’t get enough of it at home.”

He didn’t know. Because he hadn’t cared to know. All he’d focused on was his own hurt.

All those times his mom praised Dameron in school recitals or PTA meetings… was that just her being kind to a neglected boy?

“I had no idea. I always thought we just hated each other on principle. He enjoyed embarrassing me, I know that.”

“He did,” Rey conceded.

But he’d taken pleasure in taking Dameron down a peg whenever he had the chance, too. Did this new knowledge change things? He didn’t know. It was a lot to think about. And it wasn’t like the anger he’d harbored over the years would disappear just like that. The guy had done and said awful things to him, but when he remembered how he’d been with Finn, and even with _Rey_ … And really, now that he was thinking about it, it wasn’t impossible that in his prickly shell, he’d inflicted more undeserved hurt to whoever else, too…

If they’d been kinder to each other, less fearful… more honest about things… Maybe he could put some of that down to the stupidity of teenagers, but it didn’t make it any less of a waste. Any less wrong. Maybe they could have even stayed friends.

Maybe some broken things were just meant to be left behind. Dameron was gone, off living his charmed life elsewhere.

But here Rey was with her heart still hurting over Finn. The guy was an integral part of her life, and their friendship was made stronger by their very specific shared loneliness—they’d bonded over being orphans, he was sure.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to Finn. Back then, I mean.”

Her silence was agreement, and he was even more chastised. But she squeezed his hand.

He went on, “I don’t think I even got to say a proper sorry yesterday. If there’s anything you’ve taught me… well… that’s important.”

She looked up at him. “Let’s give it a little time. I know it’s hard.”

It was. But time, at least, was one thing he had a lot of.

 

*******

 

His dad came in again a bit later with a plate of banana fritters, and Ben sat with a docile resignation as Han checked his temperature. He was reminded—ordered, more like—to stay in bed in no uncertain terms. After he left, and as they munched on the sweet, doughy snack, Rey teased him about Han’s fussing.

“He isn’t always like this, you know,” he told her. “I think he’s trying to impress you.”

“I know you like it, deep down. Don’t lie.”

“Hmm… I guess it’s better than him screaming at me. He does that a lot, too.”

She sighed, and there was that wistful smile on her face again.

“I think I know a little of how Poe feels.”

“Hmm?”

“You have a nice relationship with your parents.”

Did he? He’d never thought so, especially those last few years before he left. But he supposed it could be worse.

He still had them, for one.

She’d never talked about hers, except for that one time when she’d chased him down and told him her dad had drowned. There was a lot of pain there, he knew, but since she’d opened it up herself, maybe it would be okay to ask about it now.

“Will you tell me about yours?”

Another smiling sigh, and her eyes looked at empty space, and he knew she was far away.

“I told you my dad was a diver. Offshore, too, so he was away a lot. My mom… she was madly in love with him.” She chuckled, but when she went on, he found there was nothing funny about the whole thing. “Sometimes I wonder if I have half-siblings out there. Even when I was little, I knew there was some kind of… imbalance between them. I’m not sure why he even married her. I guess things were different between them in the beginning. So… he’d send us decent money, and he was nice enough whenever he came home. But he’d be gone again, and too soon, if you asked my mom. She didn’t really handle his absence too well, and her emotions were all over the place, I guess you could say. She’s no Leia Skywalker.

“So my dad dies when I was twelve, and you can guess how well she took that. She lost it. She was always fragile, but that really just… just broke her. She started to drink even more. It was just a glass or two of wine at night before that, and I get that it helped with her nerves. But then she goes all out, and fast. She stopped going to work—I guess we lived on compensation from the accident. I won’t even be surprised if she did harder stuff, but… she pretty much checked out with my dad.”

He had to put his arm around her. Against his shoulder, she went on.

“I’m okay, really—this was a long time ago. So things were bad, and I guess part of her was still alive enough to know that. She checked herself into rehab. In and out for a year, maybe, but she wasn’t really getting better. It just cycled, you know? I guess I should be grateful she at least left me here with Uncle—he’s her older brother. The last I know of her, she went to Jakku. Maybe joined one of those communes there.”

“How did she…?”

“Hmm?”

“How did she die?”

She snorted.

“She isn’t dead, Ben.”

What?

_What?_ Her mother was alive?

“Don’t worry, everyone assumes that. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be. I used to write to her, you know, but she never answered. Ben, come on, don’t look so shocked.”

But he was utterly shocked. What the hell kind of mother would leave their child like that? And _Rey_ —someone so sweet and just… just _good_.

She was still smiling as he looked down at her, and her palms found their way to his cheeks. He had no words.

“Hey… I’m okay, really. Do I look not okay to you? I’ve made my peace with it.”

He was angry, and heartbroken—and ashamed of how he’d taken a lot of things in his life for granted.

She went on, “Tsk… this is why it’s not easy to talk about. People take it really hard.”

She spoke as if anyone else’s feelings on the matter other than her own had any significance.

“Well… I’m glad you did tell me. Rey… you…” The lump in his throat wasn’t from his cold, and he had to gulp a few times. “You can always talk to me about anything. Anything at all.”

“I know. And it’s nice.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“I could kiss your friends’ feet for being there for you, do you know?”

She laughed out loud at that.

“I don’t think they’d like that. Finn might kill you right there. And then me.”

“Well… then I’d have to try something else if that won’t work.”

Gods… his precious Rey. How anyone could toss her aside, he would never understand. But one thing he knew: he wasn’t going to make that same mistake.

 

*******

All the excitement and the revelations of the day—and all the food they’d eaten one after another—took their toll on Ben’s already taxed system, and they settled down for a nap. At three in the afternoon. She was a blanket of warmth on his back, and her fist rested right next to his heart. It was the most peaceful sleep he’d fallen into in recent memory.

And it was maybe too peaceful, because when he next woke up, his desk lamp was on, and Rey was shaking him gently.

“Ben… time for dinner. Wake up.”

He struggled to sit up, and he was reminded that he was sick quite effectively again by that sensation behind his nose. And when he asked about the time, his voice sounded funny.

“It’s past nine.”

Huh. He’d slept for that long. She stroked his forehead. Why was she still here?

“You haven’t gone home yet?”

“Oh… I was helping out downstairs.”

“What?” Why did his dad allow that? “You didn’t need to.”

“I know. I wanted to. Now wash your face so we can eat. I got you some more limeade.”

He decided he was going to talk to his dad later and ask about Rey’s compensation, but he knew bringing it up with her now would be fruitless. He shuffled off to the bathroom, and he felt a lot more alive when he was done. She’d set their food on his desk, and soon they were both digging in.

Eating dinner at home at the end of the day after work… being taken care of by someone he—someone he cared about… it was the loveliest thing in the world. He didn’t see how he could tire of looking at her, or hearing her talk, or feeling her close against him. It was dangerous territory, he knew, all these feelings he had for her. He’d sounded so confident earlier when he’d told her they’d go at their own pace, but really, it wasn’t like he could stop any of it. He’d hold off on thinking about certain words for now. Just this was utter bliss already.

“This feels so wrong… having Chewie’s stuff when it isn’t my treat day. Why does it have to be so good?” She groaned.

They talked about how the night had gone downstairs, and he was conscious the whole time of how late it was getting. He hated that their day together was coming to an end, but she had to get home soon. At least she had her uncle’s truck with her instead of her bike.

Too soon, they were hugging each other goodbye, and he was dodging her lips again.

“Stop pouting. Just give me a few days, and you can do whatever you want with me again.”

She actually squeezed his ass. Hard. He yelped.

“You’re killing me here, Rey.”

She gentled her hands, but the rubbing wasn’t any better, and parts of him were waking up to say good night to her.

And that was how he found himself telling his brand-spanking-new girlfriend that he was a virgin.

“You gotta go easy on the new guy.”

She leaned back. Somehow, he’d expected her to smile, but there wasn’t one on her face—not of amusement, not of affection. Just that earnest look he loved.

“I wasn’t sure, but I suspected it,” she finally said.

He supposed it was that obvious. He ducked his head, suddenly shy.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m no expert, either.”

He chuckled. “I mean I get me, but how the hell you stayed single all this time, Rey, I’ll never know. Do you know how lucky I feel?”

But she stiffened in his arms. He found himself looking at her. What was that?

“I’ve done it once before.”

That… hit him hard. He’d never even considered that she might have had relationships in the past, and now he felt like a fool. But he tried to master the emotion because he sure as hell wasn’t going to be _that guy_ who needed to know her history. She was a beautiful girl, inside and out, and the logical part of his brain knew that other guys would have seen, too, just what a prize she was.

“Oh.”

But his mind couldn’t help racing. _Once_ … Did she mean that she’d had sex only once before, or just with one guy?

He didn’t need to know. He really didn’t.

She went on, “He was my boyfriend for all of three weeks. I don’t even think we were into each other that much. It was almost graduation, and I guess people just go crazy. Everyone was pairing off.”

He nodded. Best response he could give her.

Somewhere down the bottom of his stomach, his heart wanted to ask: _Who was he?_

So he was surprised when she said, “I don’t think you even know him. Anyway, the one time we tried doing it, it wasn’t... you know… good. We were both kind of clueless. We stopped seeing each other soon after. So… really… I’m only a hair ahead of you. There’s been nothing since then.”

He felt bad about that look in her eyes, the one that made him suspect she felt she had to explain.

And so he forced himself to smile, and he told her, “Then that means we kind of have to learn this together, huh?”

Her face finally broke into a grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

Precious girl. He allowed himself a moment of selfish honesty and acknowledged just how glad he was, down to his soul, that they still had a lot to discover together.

Things were going to be okay.

No… things were already great, and they were going to get _even better_.

 

*******

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still being with the story! I hope you are still finding things to enjoy. :) This is neither the longest nor the fastest-paced chapter, but there were some things that needed to be cleared up. Have a good weekend!


	13. Chapter 13

*******

 

Some time after Rey left, Ben’s mom looked in on him, and she had with her a liter of cold melon milk. It was yet another thing that he loved but hadn’t had for so long. Rey had said something about turning back into a kid when you got sick, and that was exactly how he felt as he sipped the cold, sweet drink his mom had poured for him. But he was never going to admit to anyone—not even to Rey—how nice it felt to have his hair smoothed back as he lay under his warm blanket, his belly full of dinner, his heart full with his time with his girl, and the taste of melon fresh on his tongue.

Maybe he should get sick more often.

And maybe it was the night off of his feet and that long “nap,” maybe it was his day full of Rey and her Ginger-Limeade of Death, or maybe it was Han’s obsessive temperature and food checks, but Ben was feeling much improved by the next day. And maybe part of his motivation, too, to get moving again was the urgent purchase that Rey had asked him to see to. And so early in the afternoon, he found himself standing in front of a certain aisle at the supermarket, the advice of internet strangers a balm on his nerves. And if the cashier had any thoughts on the… _selection_ he placed before her, at least she didn’t show it.

He surprised himself by looking forward to his time with his dad and Chewie, and the weight of his favorite pan—he’d come to have a _favorite_ pan—in his hand and the heat on his face felt like old friends that missed him just as much.

And much later, as he lay in bed after he’d disposed of the fruits of his product testing—and endurance training, which apparently he’d need as per his online advisors and which he’d fed with his memories of yesterday—he sunk back into his thoughts.

Rey’s revelations about her mom, about Dameron, about her past experience gave him a lot to think about.

Weeks ago, she told him she wouldn’t want him to pity her. And he understood that, and admired her all the more for her resilience, but really… He thought he couldn’t stand how his mom settled because she’d loved his dad, and yet Rey’s mom practically gave up on life because of that same love. Gave her own child up. He was sure that in the process, that woman had killed something in Rey, too.

For how bright Rey’s light burned, there always seemed to be an underlying sense of resignation about her, he thought. It came out in her _okay_ -ness, which he saw not just from her own direct insistence, but from how she told her stories. About accepting Rose and Finn’s friendship. About having to care for her uncle when her friends went off to college. About accepting kindness from Maz and his own dad. About looking at him from a distance.

Always grateful for the good things that came to her, but always too careful, too, about not expecting too much.

It was a strength, he supposed, but one he found difficult to understand or relate to.

But then he thought of how she’d approached him that first time downtown, or that night in his room when she asked him if she had a chance. She’d stood trembling in front of him both times in entreaty.

Why did she push herself when it came to him?

He didn’t know. But he was certainly grateful that she did.

On Thursday, he marveled—under the sun on his lake, and later, in the middle of mopping the Falcon kitchen floor—at just how it was that even though his routine hadn’t changed much, it felt as if the life he’d been leading as recently as two or so weeks ago now felt so distant.

He recognized that he was happy—truly happy, and what a novel feeling it was. His time on his boat was no longer devoted to licking his wounds over whatever hurt, or gnashing his teeth at the world. If the water could talk back, he was sure it would speak of its relief at their conversation’s change in tone. Not even the occasional niggling doubt over whether he deserved it or whether it was a state that would soon pass could truly put a dent on the fullness he felt.

One thing he knew for sure: he would hold on to this for as long as he could.

 

*******

 

Friday took its time coming, but he was all the more excited for how much he’d looked forward to seeing Rey again. In the last few days, he’d told himself to keep things cool, that there was no reason to run downtown every single day to see Rey while she was working—he wasn’t going to be a pest and have Maz kick him out of her shop—or to wish that she’d stop by after work, when it was late for her and she needed her rest. He still heard her voice every day, and sometimes even saw her when they video chatted. They’d have their time, and Friday was going to be glorious, even though it would really only be an hour at most.

He was in the middle of some vigorous meat-unsticking pan shaking when her arrival was heralded by Han knocking on the service window.

“Chewie, I need Ben out here for a sec. Can you hold the fort?”

“What’s that, Dad?”

And Chewie, in his bland, weather-talk voice, and without pausing or even slowing down from his own cooking dance over the fire, asked, “She here, then?”

“Mm,” his dad said, and then to Ben, he cocked his head in the dining counter’s direction.

But before Chewie could respond, Han spoke over his shoulder to her, to his utter mortification—

“You want Ben’s chicken again, or do you want Ben?”

“Dad!”

Chewie snorted.

His dad went on, “To come say hi right now, I mean.”

“Gimme a sec, Rey!” he roared, trying to drown out his embarrassment. And whatever else Han planned to say. “Just finishing up here!”

“Watch out, he’s not giving you a choice!” Chewie contributed.

Into a bowl rained rice, meat, a careless dash of chili flakes, the whole thing accompanied by a tiny ramekin of sweet shredded pickles, straight to the window counter, and then Ben was washing his hands and tearing his apron off.

He squeezed through the swinging door just as Han made his own way into the kitchen. But of course, his dad wasn’t quite done—

“Not where I can see it, kids. And make it quick.”

He gritted his teeth and avoided the curious gazes of the two gentlemen outside. It wasn’t particularly hard because _there she was_ , literally pinching her smile in with her fingers and snorting into them just as inelegantly as Chewie did. She rose from her seat as he walked to her, a soft “Hey” on her lips, and he grabbed her hand. She skipped next to him, his happy little chipmunk, her bag bouncing along with her as they went… well, to where his dad couldn’t see.

Past the diner front’s radius of light, by the side gate and in the cushion of relative darkness, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, backpack and all. She made it easier for him with her own arms around his shoulders, and her joyful little sigh made everything so much lighter.

“Missed you,” he mumbled against her temple. The words didn’t quite roll off his tongue smoothly yet, and his face felt warm.

As soon as he set her down, she began nuzzling and snuffling against him—his chest, his neck, his jaw, on the tips of her toes. It tickled, tingled, and felt damn good.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for Ben. I’m finding a lot of smoke… and stir-fry… but where’s Ben?”

He laughed. Did he stink that bad? He cradled the back of her head and tilted it up.

“Here I am.”

And then he kissed her hello, and there she was, too, all warmth and sweetness and comfort—everything he’d been needing for the last few days. She took all of his air and lit a fire with it, and oh, how quickly did it catch. The mild shudders that racked him showed him just what a weak, weak man he was for her. Fuck if he didn’t love her kisses.

He had to remind himself that he was in the middle of work, and that she was here to have dinner. He gave her lower lip a last little nibble and then pulled back.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked after he’d caught his breath.

Her smile was gasoline on his fire, and he traced a corner of it with his thumb.

“I did. Actually, I want to ask your opinion on something.”

“Okay, but let’s get some food in you first, and then you can tell me all about it.”

On their very short walk back, they discussed what she’d have, and she had to correct him when he said she’d had the same thing the past three Fridays. The reminder of his episode made him cringe, but when he looked at her as she sat back down on her usual stool, she was already removing her backpack and smiling at Han again.

Chewie’s hairy face appeared in the window, and he put on a little performance.

“Oy, you traitor. How come you never ask for my braised pork anymore, huh? Just because someone cuter’s come along…”

His dad grinned and pinched his cheek. _Gods_. “Takes after his old man, doesn’t he?”

She chuckled. “But that’s what I had last week.”

“I know,” Chewie said, “but only because you couldn’t have your new favorite. And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t deny that other part.”

The exaggerated pout under all the hair might just revisit him in his nightmares, Ben thought as he swatted his dad’s hand off.

“Well… it just so happens that’s what I’m here for tonight, so… please?” Her monstrously toothy grin flickered between sheepish and shameless relative to the two points.

Chewie laughed. “You know I’m kidding.”

“I wasn’t, though,” Rey insisted, and Chewie looked at Ben, his eyebrows raised. Almost like he was asking for… permission?

“Fickle women, I know,” was all he said.

He made her some fried rice to go with Chewie’s pork, and he was sure his dad wouldn’t mind that he added more egg and carrot bits for their favorite customer. And then he sat across from her and watched her inhale a few mouthfuls in greasy bliss before she slowed down enough to talk. She told him about a guy who came in and asked about commissioning a ring box for his girlfriend. Apparently, the girlfriend had gushed to him about her stuff from the fair.

He had to smile at her round-eyed disbelief. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Just that… that was the first time someone’s asked for something specific.”

“Hmm. Do the people who buy your stuff from the store know it’s you who made them?”

“Well… sometimes Maz tells them when they ask.”

“The fair was great exposure, then. Did you have business cards there?”

“Business cards? Huh… no, I didn’t think of that. But I don’t know… that seems so… professional. Or… established?”

“Hey. Didn’t you sell most of what you brought to the fair? What does that tell you, huh?” He tapped the back of her hand. “Come on, Rey, you should know you make great stuff. And the fact that this guy came in and asked about you means people are interested. So maybe you can have some cards in the store, if Maz would allow it. I don’t see any reason she wouldn’t.”

With his dad and Chewie chiming in their encouragement every now and then, he was only too happy to tell her he’d help design her business card. She told him she hadn’t committed yet, but that the guy had left his number in case she changed her mind since he was in no particular hurry. Her concern revolved around the fact that she’d never made boxes before, and that she was worried about what she’d do if the guy didn’t like what she’d end up making. Ben reassured her that there was still time to practice if she wanted, and that if the design didn’t involve elements that were too personal or too specific to the girlfriend, she could always just sell it at the store along with her other stuff.

“I mean what would you lose? You’ll be learning something new you can use for your future work. It should be worth a try, if just for that.”

He had to jump back into the kitchen with the arrival of a few more customers, but Rey told him she wasn’t in a rush to get home. It was an absolute treat having her in the background as he worked, and her winks at him whenever he caught her eye were little energy bombs.

She stayed almost an hour longer than usual, and in that time, even his mom came in and fawned over her. For how chatty she got with his dad and Chewie, it amused him to see her so shy with his mom—but then neither of the older men had the air of a kind general about them that even in her work-rumpled suit, and even as she nibbled on her fried sweet potatoes, just oozed off off Leia Skywalker-Solo. If Rey had still been eating, he was almost certain none of the food would have made it down her throat in their usual ease.

As he watched his family and his girl, he thought of how perfectly the service window framed the tableau. In the gallery in his mind, this image would take a place of honor, and he was sure he’d still be revisiting it, this little slice of heaven, long after everything else faded away.

 

*******

 

They agreed to meet at the lake in the morning, and after Rey left with about a hundred reluctant sighs, and hours after work had finished, Ben stared up at his ceiling and used it as his mind’s canvas for Rey’s business card.

_Rey Kenobi, Woodworker._

That didn’t sound right. He checked his phone and confirmed that that was more for cabinet and furniture makers. But who knew? Maybe someday she’d expand her horizons even further.

_Rey Kenobi, Handmade Wood Crafts._

That was a better fit for now. Maybe a picture of one of her carvings. Or a close-up of some of her finer detail work as the background.

Just thinking about it thrilled him. He thought of how nice it was that Rey was getting more recognition for her work. He sat up, switched his desk light on and plucked the boat she’d made from its perch atop a pile of paperbacks. He traced the familiar lines with his thumb, and for the thousandth time, his heart squeezed when he thought of how he’d been in her mind when she made this and the other boats. In his pen mug, there was also the cheerful pompom flower that would never, ever wilt.

These things she’d made for him, and her story of how she got started because she wanted to give Rose a present—they were proof her work sprung from her heart. Even though she’d expressed her worry about that potential commission, he was absolutely sure she’d nail it. She loved what she did, and on top of that, she was a bit of a perfectionist.

Even just this made him smile. Her fulfillment made him happy, and he was so proud of her. And that… that was another step into that dangerous territory. He wondered if it was the same for her.

But then what would she be happy about when it came to _his_ accomplishments? There was a pang in his chest as he thought of his own circumstances. He was on disciplinary suspension from university, and even now that the semester was ending and a new one was coming up, he wasn’t even sure what his plans were. He’d come home and buried his head in sand the last few months, and he was working as a kitchen assistant for his dad—and even that was temporary. Sure, he wasn’t particularly pressed for money, but that was only because his parents were almost aggressively generous. He’d been in a bubble with Rey, but really, he didn’t have anything and anyone other than her and his family.

Where was he going in his life?

And really, why was she with him when he was like this?

A good chunk of his happiness fizzled just like that, but at least he had that surplus to start with. This thing with Rey had distracted him from the foggy gloom of his prospects, and the worst of it was that at this point, he genuinely didn’t know what he wanted to do. He was far from certain if he could just jump back into his studies after everything that had happened.

Even with Professor Snoke gone—along with the internship he’d promised to facilitate for Ben—Hux would likely still be there after he was done with his own suspension. And then what? Hux was a snake, the kind that bit even harder the second time you crossed its path. Made desperately dangerous by his father’s shoe on his tail. He’d have two more years to deal with that if he ever decided to go back.

He didn’t know what to do. The pillow over his face barely helped keep his breathing even, but it still felt like he was drowning.

There were no answers for tonight.

 

*******

 

He was stuffing his things into his car when she called to tell him she was going to be late. Her apology was laced with some bitterness when she told him her uncle needed his knee packed and that she had to run after that to get him some pain relievers. He reassured her that he didn’t mind—at least it wouldn’t be a complete cancellation of their day together—and her tone suggested that this was urgent but not really a huge emergency. Maybe this was something she had to deal with regularly. He’d have to ask about it later.

When they hung up, he thought maybe with the extra hour, he could get a bit more sleep. But then he remembered the last time they went to the lake together, and if she was bringing her bike again, he’d need his dad’s truck to make things simpler. The thought of borrowing it again gave him pause, though. He knew it was with some reluctance that his dad allowed it the last time, and if he were to make a habit of it every time he and Rey went out together…

It came to him as he sat in the driver’s seat, his eyes closed and his hand still wrapped around his phone, that maybe he could just look into getting a bike rack for his car.

An attachment, an adjustment to a fixture in his life for someone who hasn’t been his girlfriend for even a week.

Sure, a bike rack wasn’t a permanent thing, but it still spoke of a certain type of commitment. It was a tacit concession to the fact that they’d be spending significant time together going forward. And if he went through with it, this purchase would mean even more than that other one he made a few days ago.

He unlocked his phone and started looking into models.

 

*******

 

She was already at their dock when he got there. It turned out he was the one late, after all, and he decided he’d just let her find out about the rack when she saw it later. His time at the sporting goods store was made easier by the eager owner and by his own determination to get it before his nerves got him. It wasn’t exactly a surprise—surprises were something you get a person for their own pleasure, and while he bought it for her bike, his convenience also factored into it. But there was something he did get just for her which he’d picked up while he was there already, and he hoped she liked it.

The expression on her face was new to him, the tightness of her jaw diminishing her smile. She put her sketch pad aside and came up to meet him, her arms closing around him as soon as he got within reach. He rubbed her back, and the way she wrapped herself tighter around him told him she appreciated the comfort he offered.

“Sorry I’m late. How’s your uncle?”

She sighed against his chest. “Obstinate, as usual.”

“What happened?”

“You know what, Ben? My uncle has all these… these health issues, but you know what his worst problem is?”

Wow, she went right into it. She’d never spoken much about her uncle, but he could almost see steam coming out of her nose with her every huff now.

“What?”

“He’s so fricking… _stubborn_. Sometimes you just get fed up with it, you know?”

She was going to start stomping her feet any second now. He wanted to kiss her, angry mouth and all, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t welcome it at the moment.

And so he just said, “Tell me.”

“He keeps doing all these things he shouldn’t. He _knows_ he should stay away from certain stuff. Like… when I get groceries I don’t even buy red meat or soda, but then he’d get food delivered with a _two-liter bottle_. Shit like that. And then he’s a bear the whole time because his knee and his foot act up. But no, oh, no—going to the doctor is out of the question unless he’s practically writhing in pain. And then what does he do with his prescription? He doesn’t even bother with the maintenance meds. But wait! He gets me to buy him herbal shit online sometimes—he swears they work better. I mean what kind of sense does that make, Ben?”

She was breathing hard after her delivery. But she wasn’t done.

“I had to pack his knee with ice before I went to get painkillers. And then it’s medicated patches. And as soon as all that starts working, he goes back to doing whatever he wants. It’s like… it’s like putting a band-aid on a hole you made yourself but you still keep poking at it. Bad analogy. I don’t know!” she wailed.

He squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

She smacked his shoulder. She was so, so pissed.

“Why are _you_ sorry? I’m the one throwing a tantrum on our day.”

She pulled back. Her eyes were bright with emotion. And then, in a smaller voice—

“I’m so sorry, Ben. This isn’t what I wanted for today.”

Poor baby. He caressed her cheek.

“Don’t be. You needed to vent. Remember what you told me? That I can talk to you about anything? Well, it goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

The kiss he laid on her lips was one of comfort more than anything else.

“I just get tired of it sometimes.” She sighed. “But he isn’t going to change. People need a reason, you know? And I don’t think he’ll find one at this point. So I guess… I guess some things you just have to endure.”

There was that resignation again. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that sentiment, especially when it seemed this situation with her uncle was only bound to get even worse, from all he’d heard of it.

“Isn’t there anyone else that can talk sense into him?”

She snorted. “Uncle only takes his own advice. If he won’t believe a doctor… who else is there? He’s just so distrustful of them. He was so mad they amputated his arm, so he’s kind of become paranoid about them.”

“Did he have any reason to believe they could have saved it?”

“I don’t really know. That was years before I got here. But I think it had something to do with his business failing after it happened.”

“Oh? You mean the sawmill?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much about that, either, because there’s no one to ask. But I know what he’s like, so I’m not too surprised. Maybe he wasn’t great to his employees.”

He searched her eyes, wondering if it was okay to ask his question. But he decided to risk it.

“Rey… he doesn’t treat you badly, does he?”

She cocked her head. “Well… he isn’t the warmest or nicest person, but no, he doesn’t mistreat me, if that’s what you’re asking. We mostly stay out of each other’s way.”

He was relieved. But he still had a follow-up.

“You’ve never considered leaving?”

She sighed. “I’m the only one he has now, really. At this point, he needs me more than I do him, but… he’s my uncle. Blood binds, blah, blah. Anyway, that’s that. It isn’t always this aggravating.”

“Okay. But tell me if I can do anything to help.”

“This helps.”

He closed his eyes and just held her for a long time. Maybe too long, because she asked—

“You didn’t get enough sleep again, huh?”

He chuckled. “How can you tell?”

“You’re falling asleep standing up.”

“I’m not. I was just enjoying holding you.”

“It is pretty nice.”

The way she was rubbing his back was making him even sleepier, and so he forced himself away from her.

“Are we going for a dip today?” he asked.

“Sure. If you’re up for it.”

He pulled something out of his drawstring bag and handed it to her.

“What’s this? Oh, gosh, Ben, you didn’t have to!”

But he was glad he did as he watched her beam over the simple snorkeling mask—just something to help her stay motivated in the water longer, and maybe later, when she was a stronger swimmer, he’d get her fins, too. He helped her put it on, and she made silly swimming motions.

As they played in the water, he was happy that she was gaining the confidence to go off on her own more, but he was still careful to stay close to her. The underwater vista was not the most inspiring he’d seen, but it was still plenty pretty, and she seemed to agree. He told her about the giant clams and the reefs thick with bright fish he saw when they vacationed in Scarif years ago, and she _oohed_ and _ahhed_ at his descriptions. Maybe someday—

But he didn’t say anything about someday. He didn’t want to tempt fate.

At one point, she told him, “I’m really enjoying this now, Ben. Thank you for giving me something new to love.”

They laughed when she tried kissing him with the mask on, but his heart squeezed at her words.

And later, after she took a turn rowing his boat for the first time—“We need to spare your energy”—her eyes darted over its surfaces, as if she was looking for something.

“What is it?”

She looked at him cautiously. “I was just thinking of what Poe did.”

“Oh. That’s all gone. I sanded it all off.”

She smiled a sad little smile. “I’m glad boats don’t have memories.”

But people did, and for a long time, the words burned.

“Gods… I hated his guts so much after he wrote that shit. Even more than I did already, I mean. Words have power, and all that. I mean… well, I’ve been on the giving end, too.” He winced. “But you know what? Now it kind of feels more childish than soul-scarring.” And it was true, and he let out a little chuckle. It was exactly the kind of edgy thing a fifteen-year-old would say to be hurtful.

But there was no amusement on her face, and instead her brow was curled in confusion.

“I thought you said he painted dicks.”

Oh. Oh, no. Careless, careless Ben.

He gulped. And then chomped on his lips.

“Yeah, he did.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ben. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

He sighed. This was something between him and Dameron, and he didn’t particularly want to drive a wedge between them unnecessarily. Not now, not when there was a semblance of understanding between him and Finn, when things were clearing up. But he couldn’t lie to her, either, especially after he’d already slipped. And so he dug up the words for someone else for the first time ever, and he told her what he thought they’d meant at the time.

Her jaw was tight again, and her eyes flashed. He’d never had anyone outraged on his behalf like this other than his mom and dad. And the guy was her friend.

“They never told me any of this. I can’t believe it.”

He can’t believe, either, that he was feeling the urge to—well, not defend them, but at least soften her mounting anger.

“They never told anyone—least that’s what Finn said. We all overreacted at the time. It’s shitty, I know, but a lot of it’s just… just a misunderstanding. Forget it, Rey.”

She wasn’t won over.

Still, she said, “Fine. But I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

“Boys can be so stupid.”

He couldn’t help laughing at that, and she kicked his foot.

“This isn’t funny.”

“What? You can’t be mad at me for this.”

“I’m not. Just… you could all have been friends,” she lamented, “but you all just chose to be assholes to each other.”

He sighed around his smile. “That’s just how things turned out, Rey.”

He could tell, as they went around a few more times, that this was going to bother her for a while. It was yet another consequence of some _stupid boys’_ words and actions from long ago, but barring some kind of heartfelt discussion with the other two—which was never going to happen—he didn’t see anything other than time making things easier.

When they met up at Artoo’s to get to his car, the bike rack helped put a smile back on her face.

“Oh, Ben, this must have cost you—”

“Stop. And it didn’t.”

“At least let me pay for ha—”

“Rey, please. I just didn’t want to keep borrowing Dad’s truck. He gets insufferable.”

They lifted her bike up and together got familiar with how to secure it to the shiny red trunk-mounted frame.

“You even matched the color. Gosh, Ben, this is really nice. Thank you.” She tugged him down for a kiss. “I’m buying lunch. No arguments. What do you want to eat?”

Rey insisted they just spend the rest of their time together at his place so he could take a short nap after lunch. He tried to argue that it would eat at their time together, but she had a point about him needing it because he was working later. And if his sick day had been anything to go by, he did get the most restful sleep when she was around.

She was quiet on their way to the noodle place for take-out, but he felt more than saw the intensity of her stolen glances as he drove.

“Your eyes are poking holes at me. What is it?”

“Oh… It’s just that… I can’t believe you bought a bike rack for me.”

He, too, was still reeling a bit from the significance of the thing, and so a nervous huff escaped him.

“Just easier to… you know… go around,” he mumbled. And the rest of the short drive, the absence of talk was filled in by a sweet awareness.

After quick showers and their meal, he lay in bed and looked at her as she hunched over his desk, her sketch pad once again open in front of her, the bare toes of one foot curled over her knee. Her face was a mask of concentration, and every once in a while she’d look up and stare off into space, deep in thought. She was a piece of art herself, with the way the light from the window fell on the angles of her face, and in the way her lashes swept the air in front of her, or how her eyebrows and lips twitched as she processed her thoughts.

So fucking pretty. Sweet fodder for dreams, but then he didn’t want to close his eyes to the sight.

And so he asked, “What’cha drawing?”

“Oh. I was just thinking of that ring box. Go to sleep.”

He chuckled at how he was summarily dismissed, _in his own room_ , and he decided he was having none of it.

“C’mere, Rey.”

“What is it?”

“Sit here for a bit.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in suspicion. “Why?”

“I want to hold you.”

She huffed. “Okay. But only until you fall asleep.”

She sat cross-legged in the space in front of him, the perfect position for him to place a kiss on the side of her knee. The way she ran her fingers through his hair as she looked down at him sent tingles through his scalp.

“You have such pretty hair. It’s so dark and thick. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She bent down to give him a little smooch. It wasn’t enough.

“Don’t you think you’ll be comfier if you lay down?” he told her and then patted his bed.

She smiled at his obvious scheme and bit her lip. But she did as he asked, and her back was a wall of warmth in front of him. She brought his arm around her and held it against her tummy.

“Better,” he said against her hair.

For many minutes they lay in silence, just absorbing each other’s presence. Every time he thought about it, he almost couldn’t believe that someone was with him like this, wanted to be just as close to him. No, not just someone, but _Rey_ , who was a treasure in every way. It wasn’t just him who knew it. He would never understand his impossible luck.

Sleep hovered behind his closed eyes, but everything in him sang at her proximity, and the resonance filled his veins with warmth. She smelled so good. Felt even better.

He couldn’t help it. He pressed his mouth against her nape and spread his fingers over her belly.

“You aren’t going to take a nap, are you?” Her voice skittered over his skin like little sparks.

“I don’t think so. Unless you really want me to. Do you want me to, Rey?”

A breathless pause, and her hand squeezed his.

“No.”

“Tell me… did you really want to come here so I could sleep? Or did you have something else in mind?”

“Did I?”

He huffed against her hair. But her trembling fingers and her little puffs of breath gave him the answer he wanted to hear. She turned around in his arms and looked up at him. He thought he could fall into those eyes.

“I missed you, Ben. Always miss you when you’re not around,” she said for good measure, the achy lilt pulling at things inside him.

And then she stretched her neck and kissed him. A soft contact cushioned by air, and the gentleness of it only made him want to press back harder. She let him, and he could taste just how much she cared—felt it, too, in how she caressed the side of his neck, how she sought out his other hand between their bodies. Her kisses were intoxicating. He always thought there was some degree of exaggeration whenever he heard people describe how good kissing felt, but the way his mind was getting foggy from pleasure showed him reality was even better. And when her tongue met his, it was like live wires touching.

She inflamed him so easily. He only noticed how urgently his hands were pulling her to him when she gasped.

“Want to touch you so bad.” He didn’t just want it. He was fucking desperate to get closer to her. “Will you let me?”

“Please.”

He slid his hand under her shirt, her flesh jumping at the contact. So smooth. He ran it up and down, pressed it against her ribcage and felt her lungs fill and empty so harshly. She was on fire for him, too, and he loved how she arched against him, the motion an unpracticed bid to get closer.

And so he gave her what she wanted and moved his hand up against the slight lower swell of her breast. He didn’t expect it to be such a pocket of heat, and the surprise of it brought an answering warmth to his face. From there it was all too easy to cup his hand and squeeze, gently for his eager girl, and when his thumb brushed over the peak that surged against the material of her bra, she let out a little cry, and his mouth moved on instinct to catch it.

Fuck, she was so sweet.

He wasn’t going to figure out how to unhook her bra right now, and so he simply pushed it up and out of the way. And maybe it was a little too rough because she squeaked against his mouth, and he mumbled an apology. Smoothness was going to have to come later, with practice, but they both needed this now. Her lips trembled against his as he learned her shape, and he marveled at the contrasting textures—how can it poke at his palm like that and yet be so soft all around it?

And how was it that it felt so good to please _her_ , as if the act stroked invisible hands over his own nerves, too? He loved the give of her skin against his mouth and teeth as he kissed his way past her jaw, down the column of her neck. Against the collar of her shirt, which didn’t have any place in his exploration, and it frustrated him how it was in the way.

When he pulled back to see what he could do about the damn thing, the sight of her breasts bared to him made his cock throb. He brushed his fingers against a pink-brown tip and loved how it caught and resisted—loved even more how it made her breath hitch.

That other time, he’d been too caught up in the throes of his pleasure to really see and feel all the nuances, but this slower exploration… There was a part of him that was almost terrified at the newness, the _otherness_ of her female textures, her smells, the little sounds she made. This wasn’t just some girl, too, but _his Rey_.

And the way the stiff peaks moved as she breathed… He gave in to the urge to wrap his lips around one, and they conformed automatically to her shape. This was even better than touching, when he could pull her into the vacuum of his mouth, or play with her with his wet tongue. And she was in full agreement, judging from how she wrapped her hand around his head.

“Ben… feels so good… _ohh_ …”

And it wasn’t just her hand that brought him closer. She’d hiked her leg up around his hip, and the feeling, the very _thought_ of her opening herself up to him made everything in him swell against her. Without moving his mouth off of the delicious perch it had found, he slid his hand down from her back and cupped her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. So pliant, yet under that softness, her muscles bunched up for him with every motion.

He was fully aware, with how his cock was nudging the warm notch between her legs, that if they didn’t have clothes between them, he’d be inside her already, that the rhythm he was setting with his hand on her bottom wouldn’t just be them grinding against each other but him fucking into her. And he wanted it so bad, like nothing else he’d ever wanted, but with what little remained of his mental capacity, he reminded himself that there was more of her to discover before that.

And so he traced his fingers between the mounds of her sweet bottom, and even over her shorts, he discovered even more of her warmth. And when they found their way under the hem, they briefly came into contact with the damp hint of her readiness for more.

_Fuck._

“Can I—can I—?”

The automatic question, drilled into him by the caution of his research, she answered by bringing his hand forward. A button, he found out, he could handle, as well as a zipper, and his hand finally, finally dipped inside and found her.

No amount of reading or watching or dreaming could have prepared him for the reality of her wet welcome, and he realized he was shaking just as hard as she was, just from touching her. He didn’t quite know what to do, but somehow he must be doing something right, because here was an ocean of evidence.

 _He_ did this to her.

“Ben… you’re driving me crazy. Please… please don’t stop.”

And so he plundered the prize of his ministrations, and she had an answering patience as she moved her fingers over his to teach him how she liked it. He strummed her slick flesh, and her entire body sang. The neat patch of hair, the pad of her outer lips, the softer flesh inside, the nub that was her clitoris—her body was a story, and he was slowly learning.

When her hand moved back to his face to guide his kiss, when a finger brushed against his lips, he realized from the sudden intoxicating scent that there was more than one way to learn. And when he brought his own fingers up to his mouth and tasted her, he didn’t know who was more shocked.

He rose over her, and she was all limbs that didn’t know where to go, just like he was, but he was driven by his determination for more. For a moment he only looked down at her, her breasts framed by her bunched-up shirt and bra, her tummy heaving, and only a hint of dark hair between the vee of her open fly. And her face… cheeks bright with color, lips even redder from his kisses, and her eyes… those eyes that _knew_ him…

He kissed her again, a slow contact that reached deep, that spoke of his care, and his gratitude, and that told her he was here for her. But it didn’t last too long, and her neck, a puffy nipple, her belly button were quick stops on the way to her center. A jerky tug, an awkward shimmy, and they managed to pull her shorts and panties off.

There she was, between thighs that trembled and that he had to woo with his hands to open up for him. She was shadowy hair and glistening wetness, and he could cry from the sudden feeling that overwhelmed him. She was _his_. He looked up at her across her body, but she had her face turned away, and he could only imagine what she was thinking.

 _Go slow_ , they said. _Don’t rush it, and let her tell you what she likes._

“Tell me if I do anything you hate.”

But her sighs and her hand in his hair told him his bumbling efforts were more than appreciated. He kissed all around her—there was no hurry. Her scent was a drug, as was her smooth skin, and the fine hair that tickled his lips. Everything was a feast, and for his eyes, he’d never seen a prettier shade of pink. The slit of her opening was a visceral black hole for him, and his every animal instinct told him it led to where he truly belonged, whether it was his tongue or his fingers or his cock.

“Your pussy’s so fucking pretty.” It slipped out of his mouth, and the crude, mindless statement made his face burn. But it was true. Did she giggle?

And when he finally stroked his tongue across her, he found out just how perfectly her plump lips were shaped to take him, to part for him and welcome him even deeper, each stroke greeted by a wash of wetness. He had to close his eyes at how good she tasted, and as he made love to her with his mouth so thoroughly, found all her corners with lips and tongue, she shuddered.

_He was making love to his girl._

He knew it was all so sloppy, the way his lips worked against her, or his tongue gathering her slick and bringing her flavor inside his mouth, and he was likely poking too hard at her opening, sucking too urgently on her clitoris. Even the sounds they made were sloppy. But she must like it, still, because there was no remnant of modesty in how her knees were splayed so wide for him, and she wasn’t holding back her little moans as she moved her hips under him.

And then—

“I’m close—please—need your fingers inside me—”

Two went in, and maybe he should have started with just one because she startled at the rough intrusion and grabbed his hand—gods, did he hurt her? He apologized with his tongue, but her hand just urged him back into it. And it was a tight squeeze, even with her river of slick. How the fuck was his cock going to fit?

With every slow push, her body softened even more to accommodate him, and the way she fluttered around him and against his mouth was the gentlest thing he’d ever known. He eased her back into her high with his increasing tempo, and her chanting his name had him rocking his own hips against the bed.

He was fucking her with his fingers now, but really, it was his cock that needed this tight squeeze. Gods, it would feel so fucking good. He pulled his hard length out of his own shorts, but his left hand was all wrong. It was an exercise in frustration, squeezing himself as he kept pumping into her squelching pussy with the hand he usually used to get off, but this was for her, and she was moaning so prettily for him, and that was _so good_.

He was getting close, too, and where were those fucking condoms? But his mind was shutting down, and it was impossible to think.

“Don’t stop—don’t stop, please, I’m so close—” she begged him, and he wrapped his arm around her ass and lifted her closer to his mouth, and his fingers were almost violent as he fucked her with them—another one in, and it hurt so good when she pulled at his hair hard, pushed his head closer to her core. He sucked hard on her clit, and she stiffened under him, and then her flesh was pulsing against his face, giving it a fresh coat of wetness as she came hard.

He pulled out and moved over her, kissed her quick and hard, and then he was burying his face in her sweaty neck and wrapping his fingers and her slick around himself—finally—and he dropped his weight on her, and the only thing she could do for him was wrap her arms around him and pepper his face with kisses as he tugged mindlessly on his own cock and tell him—

“Come for me, Ben.”

And he did, nowhere near where he really wanted to, but in his hand— _again_ —but it was so good and she was so close and smelled so wonderful—his beautiful, sweet Rey. He was shaking so hard as he blew his load, his entire body using up his last reserves of energy to contract against the mind-blowing pleasure, it seemed, and she was murmuring words against his ear—couldn’t tell what they were, but it was all good, he was sure. She was all good.

And the last thing he remembered was asking, “Was it okay?” And she was giggling against his ear, and kissing him there, on his jaw, on his lips.

And then he was out like a light.

 

*******

 

His embarrassment at falling too quickly into a cum coma stayed with him even as they got ready for him to drive her home, and it would have been worse if she hadn’t been so sweet about it. It was the best compliment she’d received, she said, and told him she followed him soon after, anyway.

He groaned. “How can I last when I fuck you the first time, huh? When you feel so good like that?”

“But you were so good, Ben. Too good. Even better than the last time. Oh, gods.” She moaned and covered her face with her hands.

So she’d been thinking about that too, huh?

But then she looked at him with dismay as though she’d just realized something. “I didn’t even help you… you know.”

He grinned. “You helped me plenty, I promise. If you’d been more _helpful_ … well… things would have been over before they started.”

Thankfully, she’d set her alarm, although she insisted she hadn’t planned any of it, and then it was his turn to tease her a little. She finally acquiesced that maybe she’d _hoped_ for something. And she turned it around on him again.

“Well, didn’t you?”

“Rey,” he laughed, “I’m always hoping for something with you.”

They met his dad on their way out, and he exclaimed over the bike rack that Rey directed his attention to. Han looked skyward and said a prayer of gratitude for the safety of his truck, with the intended result of Rey laughing out loud. But there was a smirk on his dad’s face as if he knew what they’d been about. It was a good thing they were in a hurry to get her home so Ben could get ready for work when he got back. He supposed he could psych himself into dealing with the rest of it later on his way back.

He stopped at the same place as the last time a short distance from her house, and their goodbye kisses were made gentle by their earlier… activities, but no less bittersweet.

“Thank you for today, Rey.”

“That’s my line, silly.”

But then she sighed, and her smile disappeared.

“Are you worried about your uncle?”

“Not worried. It’s just that I love our time together, and then…”

He hated that he had to leave her here. But it was far, far too early to think about alternatives to her living situation.

“You know what?” she said, “Go ahead and drive me home. I’m not doing anything wrong. Uncle can suck it.”

He laughed nervously at her choice of words and her sudden defiance.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

And so he did just that. When he rolled in front of the old sawmill, he kept taking cautious glances at the building that was the main house. The sound of his car must have announced their arrival because the door opened as they unmounted her bike. In the distance, he could see little more than a spot of orange light that grew brighter and then dimmed again—a burning cigarette. Rey’s mouth was a grim line the entire time.

But she called out, “Hey, Uncle.”

The shadow cleared his throat. And then—

“That a friend with you?” The question came in a guttural drawl.

There was that spark of defiance again. “My boyfriend, actually.”

Oh, gods.

The shadow lumbered out of the small porch, and Ben finally saw the man he’d heard so much about. He was bigger all around than he expected, a massive tower of flesh that looked threatening even from this distance. The pudgy face was made even more sour by his chronic pain, he thought, and the cigarette was clamped in a scowl. In his one hand, he held a cane as sturdy as his frame. From this cursory look, Ben couldn’t imagine the man being as helpless as Rey described.

He supposed he could be polite.

“G-good afternoon, sir.” He hated that he tripped over his words, but Rey’s uncle had that effect, he supposed. How the hell did she deal with this on a daily basis?

But when he looked at her, there was only that half-annoyed, half-defiant expression. She was used to this.

“You got a name?”

“Ben Solo.”

“Solo. You related to that diner guy? Han?”

“Yes, sir—he’s my dad.”

A pull on his smoke instead of a response. And then he was limping back into the house.

Ben didn’t know what to make of the whole thing. And when he heard her snickering next to him, he realized it was because his mouth hung open.

“He isn’t as bad as he looks.”

“He didn’t go in to get his chainsaw or anything, right?”

At that, she laughed outright. At least it entertained her, he supposed.

“You have long, strong legs, Ben. I’m sure you can outrun him.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Of course.”

“You were so worried about me being here before, is all.”

She sighed around her smile. “That was different. You’ll be coming around all the time now. Better for him to get used to you quick, right?”

Why did that warm his heart so? He grabbed her and placed a brief kiss on her mouth.

“Okay. I guess I should go.”

“I guess you should.”

He chuckled. “Let go of my ass, woman.” Right in front of her fucking house, no less.

“But it’s so nice.” She squeezed and got him twitchy.

On his way back home, he thought of her words. She’d introduced him as her boyfriend, which was more than he’d been able to do with his own parents, even though they’d already deduced the truth themselves. And she was allowing him into her uncle’s house now—or at least right outside it. Who knew, maybe he’d get to see inside sometime—her workshop where she poured so much of herself into her creations, or her room, even? The idea of it put a stupid grin on his face. And just like their bike rack, he liked what it said about where they were going.

And if he’d been paying attention, he would have realized that he was tapping a beat on his steering wheel with his fingers and making sounds under his breath that almost, _almost_ sounded like whistling.

 

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I could write faster. It's easy to set goals, and I'd originally intended to publish a chapter a week—it's just funny now, I know. But when it doesn't want to be written, there's absolutely no budging it. So I am all the more grateful to still have you reading this story that isn't just slow in the telling but in the getting out there, too. I can only keep saying thank you, thank you, thank you so much.


	14. Chapter 14

*******

 

Ben stood at the bottom of his stairs too early the next morning, trying to get the sun to convince his eyes to stay open. But it didn’t seem to be working very well because the damn thing was still so low on the horizon. Even after six mostly undisturbed hours of sleep, there was just something about the time of day that his body rebelled against. It didn’t help that the past few months of being back home and working evenings had only reinforced his natural inclination to sleep in.

But a promise was a promise, even one he’d somewhat regretted making after the fact, and for Rey, he’d tape his eyes open if he needed to.

Last night, when they talked on his break, she’d told him there was going to be another Sunday breakfast. He was genuinely happy that it seemed like she was finding more time with her friends, and when he asked if she had anything she always brought to these morning get-togethers, he recognized the sheepishness in her admission that she usually just got packaged sausages to go with Finn’s grandma’s fresh-baked rolls or waffles. There was always some glorious cheese-and-veggie omelettes, too, she’d said, courtesy of Rose, and fruit, because apparently her friend was a fruit nut. And maybe her love of food was rubbing off on him because her descriptions got his mouth watering.

Him, an assistant cook who was on break from working at a diner.

He didn’t know who was more surprised when he volunteered to make shredded beef. There was only silence for a moment as the awkwardness of his suggestion sunk in, and when he regained his wits he reassured her he wasn’t planning on inviting himself and joining them. She was just as quick to tell him that she didn’t want him to go to the trouble, but there was no backing out after he’d already opened his big mouth. And then he had to shush her again when she told him she’d pay for it.

And so here he was, groaning in the still-chilly morning air, his limbs still weighed down by sleep. He forced himself to desludge his brain and get going, and thankfully, his sleepy grump melted away as the pressure cooker whistled at him and the seasoning on this rushed version of another of Chewie’s hits perfumed the air of the Falcon kitchen. He had to remember not to overdo things and stopped himself from making fried rice—the last thing he wanted to do was to appear to Rey’s friends as if he was trying too hard.

Through the entire process, the episode with Finn downtown last week was at the forefront of his mind. Would the guy take this as some kind of peace offering? Ben found himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind too much if that was the case. It was no apology, much less one that was planned, but at least he hoped it can show Finn—and Rose, of course—that he’d meant what he said about not wanting to monopolize Rey’s time and attention.

His nerves made the expected appearance on his way to his meeting point with Rey. He’d convinced her, on top of the cooking thing, that he’d drive her to Finn’s place, and it wasn’t a huge task as Tuesday, their next time together, felt so far away.

In for a cent, in for a datary.

He didn’t know why he should be nervous when he wasn’t even joining them, but it was almost like what he thought it would be to “meet the parents.” Which was strange, considering he’d met Rey’s actual family the previous afternoon. He’d been nervous then, too, because Rey’s uncle looked—and from what he’d heard, acted—like a bear ready to pounce at any given second.

But this… this was different. Somehow it felt like he had to make a good impression. Or... considering they started out hating him already, maybe a _revision_ of their opinion would be a better way to describe just what he hoped for with the large takeout box warming the seat for Rey.

She _oohed_ and _ahhed_ at the smells from inside the paper bag, and he did the same from his favorite spot on her neck. It was only fair.

“Oh, Ben, this smells insanely good. Dear gods, my mouth is watering so much, I’m not even—look.” She pointed at her open mouth, as if Ben could even see as he got on the road. “Oh, gods, I’m _hungry_.”

He had to laugh at the way her knees bounced as she tapped her feet. This was all the payment he needed for getting out of bed early.

When they got to Finn’s place—a modest, single-storey house with neat shrubs and potted pink flowers outside the fence—Rey’s hug lasted a bit too long, and when she pulled back, he understood just what was in her eyes that couldn’t find its way to her mouth. He kissed the corner of it to reassure her that it was okay.

“Have fun, hmm,” was all he said to her.

“Thank you for this, Ben.” She kissed him once, twice. “You’re so good to me.”

“Don’t leave too late for work,” he yelled after her as she climbed out.

“Yes, Mom.”

With a last wave, and to the loud greetings from the gate that opened to welcome her in, he drove off.

 

*******

 

He had to find a way to distract himself later after he woke up from his catch-up nap and found Rey’s messages. The beef had been divine, she said, and he could almost feel her hundred kiss emojis. They’d all loved it, and it had gone perfectly with Grandma Tuan’s rolls. And Finn had _inhaled_ about half of it all by himself. And that was _after_ she’d told them he made it.

Sonofabitch.

Finn had all but bared his teeth at him in town that last time. And now his fricking beef was sitting in the guy’s stomach without anyone having to force it down there—unless Rey was exaggerating... No, she wouldn’t have. A person wouldn’t eat—wouldn’t “inhale”—something someone they hated made, would they?

The mental image that formed of Finn scowling as he downed roll after beef-stuffed roll in reluctant satisfaction… it made him chuckle.

But he didn’t have to rely on just his imagination as there were a few pictures of Rose and Finn and his grandma—and even of that dog… what was its name, again?—and of Rey, of course, and they all looked like they were having the time of their lives.

He missed her. It wasn’t that he wanted to have her all to himself, but… he wanted to be there when she was happy. Where she was happy. It didn’t have to be him making her happy… he just wanted to see it and bask in her glow. If that thing hadn’t happened back then, maybe he’d have been… well… _allowed_ to share this particular joy with her.

His sighs carried him all the way to the main house, and after he’d downed two-and-a-half bowls of cereal, he found himself sprawled on the floor of his parents’ bedroom, telling his mom about the bike rack at his dad’s urging as she folded freshly-washed laundry on the bed. Just like what he said to Rey, his dad’s reluctance to lend him his truck made for a great excuse.

“Tsk. Maybe I should have just started charging you for it,” Han said from the open doorway around the dried peaches he’d been gnawing on. “That’s a few times a week, at least.”

“I know. That’s why I got it. I figured the rack would be cheaper in the long run,” he deadpanned back.

“So I guess things are getting serious, hmm?” his mom asked.

For some reason, his dad began chuckling. At least it was a distraction from having to answer his mom.

“What’s funny?”

“I’m just glad you got over that ‘Rey’s-after-me’ nonsense fast. Much better having a girl be your playmate than hate your guts, huh?”

Maybe he should have just answered his mom, after all. And his dad’s wording… He threw his arm over his eyes and scrambled his brain for something else to talk about.

“I saw her uncle for the first time yesterday.”

“Oh? I thought you’d been there a few times.”

“Yeah, well… she doesn’t let me drive her to the house… just down the road. She said he doesn’t like visitors.”

“Checks out. Plutt’s always been an antisocial ass.”

Leia just sighed.

“What? He is.”

Ben offered, “Rey says he’s got a lot of health… things, so I guess that’s part of it.”

“Nah. Even before he lost his arm, the guy was already an ass.”

He could believe that. But he said, “She told me his business failed soon after that. That couldn’t have helped, either.”

“No, no… it was already failing. His arm—that was a work accident, sure, but he was already running his business to the ground. Word back then was he was just bleeding money. He was terrible with it. And his employees were always leaving because they hated him so much.”

“He did buy a sawmill that’s been closed for decades,” his mom said. “There’s bigger operations right next door in Yavin, too. That should say something about the man’s eye for business.”

No wonder the guy was bitter. But he found it hard to feel sorry for him after all he’d heard.

“He knows you, Dad. Or of you. Asked me if I was related to you when I told him my name.”

“Mm, well… your old man’s famous for a good reason, I guess.”

“That’s one way to put it,” his mom groaned, and then winked at him. But then she suddenly asked, “Where’s Rey, anyhow? It’s Sunday. Why aren’t you out on a date or… whatever you kids do on a weekend?”

He told them she worked Sundays. And for some reason, he found himself recounting his early morning jaunt as well.

“Why didn’t you go with her, then?” his dad asked.

“I wasn’t invited.”

“So? Your food was welcome but you weren’t?”

“I’m not part of their group. That was—that was Rey’s contribution, technically.”

“And you made it. Bet you didn’t make her pay for it, too. Doesn’t sound right, if you ask me.”

He sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

His mom paused in the middle of folding an oversized undershirt.

“Sweetie, I hesitate to ask, but… is this still about Poe?”

He had to try feigning ignorance.

“What about him?”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” his dad snorted.

It was Leia’s turn to sigh. “I know you two haven’t gotten along in a long time. And Finn was—is?—his best friend. I just thought, you know, you’ve been away, and now Poe’s away… Isn’t it time to let all that go?”

He neither wanted nor knew how to explain just what the problem had been. It was enough that his mom knew that he and Dameron disliked each other, but there was no point in elaborating. This was something that would maybe fade over time, or that he’d just have to live with. It wasn’t like he’d lost the friendship of these people to begin with because they’d never really been friends.

_You can’t miss what you’ve never had._

So he just said, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right,” she conceded. “But whatever it is, I’m kind of disappointed that Rey isn’t helping smooth things out.”

That got him rising on his elbows.

“Mom, please… Rey’s got nothing to do with this. And… Finn and I have talked things out.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. They _had_ talked.

“So why are you moping in here instead of having breakfast with them?” His dad… his dad was an expert at annoying, dead-eye persistence. “Or is this just because you miss—? Look, son, take it from me: girls don’t like it when a guy’s too clingy.”

And strange tangents.

Han went on, “D’you think I got your mom to go out with me by being too obvious? No. You gotta pull back a little, give her a chance to miss you some. When we were dating, I left town for a few days once, and when I got back, your mom was just about ready to—”

A rolled-up pair of socks sailed across the room and showed Ben his mom had a strong aim on top of musical fingers.

“Han Solo, you were just giving your son a hard time about not being out there with his girlfriend! Make up your mind!”

“Hey, you think I’m kidding? Just ask Lando when he gets here later if you don’t—”

Ahh, tonight was poker night. Just great. Even his mom and dad had their own thing with their friends.

Here he was in his parents’ bedroom floor on the weekend—no friends to speak of, his girlfriend out with _her_ friends, no exams to even study for as an excuse. Even the lake was out of the question—the days were getting too warm to be out there at noon.

He sighed again.

Maybe he should just learn to play poker, after all.

 

*******

 

He didn’t learn poker, but instead trudged back to his room and fiddled with a few design prototypes for Rey’s business card on his laptop. Might as well put all this empty time to good use. He took photos with his phone of the boat and the flower, just as texture and object placeholders for the layout. But even that didn’t take a long time, and it only reminded him how much of a fool he was for her and made him miss her more. If his dad was right about how women hated needy guys… well, he’d just have to keep the clinginess to a minimum. Or to himself.

And so he found himself vegging on his bed and looking at Rey’s pictures again.

There they were at Mrs. Eyttsevhen’s dining table, sunlight through the window making the yellow room even brighter. Their smiles were easy and natural. He hated being in pictures, himself, and that fact always showed whenever he’d been unlucky enough to be included in any. But these… these were outright _pretty_. The familiarity that came through even in the candid shots, the _rightness_ about the whole thing… it was as though shared time and experiences made everything just click in place.

It was hard to relate to. The closest thing he’d had to a friend group was the row team. He remembered the rare times they all went out for drinks at the insistence of Phasma, but somehow those always devolved into raucous pissing contests or a deceptive sense of closeness that dissipated as soon as the effects of alcohol wore off. He never developed the stomach for either of those, and he usually slinked off at the earliest opportunity. And maybe watching “inspirational movies” with the team brought some enjoyment, but really, those had been accompanied by little more than spirited pep talks or conversations on technique that didn’t feel much different from his academic lectures.

There was a very sudden and very strangely recognizable melancholy thread that wrapped around his heart as he looked at the evidence of Rey’s happiness with her friends. _You can’t miss what you’ve never had_ , and yet… and yet…

He knew now that he was capable of truly enjoying the company of other people, from his time with her. And what if there were more people like her—not in the sense that he’d have feelings for them, obviously, but what if there was a whole bunch that liked doing or talking about the same things for fun? Or, thinking of his more serious conversations with her, commiserating about the hurts that found their way into a person’s soul? Isn’t that why her friends were so important to her?

This belonging he’d found with Rey… was it now spoiling him? Making him think he needed more, when he’d been doing okay by himself all these years? The thought was unsettling.

But even back then, what if he’d tried harder with the team? They already had one important thing in common, and none of them had been outright asshats like Hux or Dameron. He knew that some of them even became best friends with each other.

Why had he been so determined at walling everyone out? It was one thing to be introverted, but now that he looked back at things, he’d probably come off as some kind of complete misanthrope. That no one asked about him, not even his teammates, when he was forced to leave university… that said so much, didn’t it?

He thought of Rey’s uncle. He knew he hadn’t been as bad as that, but if he continued being so angry at the world, if he spent years listening to no one but his own opinions inside his head, who was to say that time wouldn’t turn him into someone just like Unkar Plutt?

Gods, he was so fucking grateful that he had Rey now. That she’d forgiven him. That she’d persisted, even when he’d tried shutting her out.

He texted her—neediness be damned.

_< You make me so happy, Rey Kenobi. _

_< I wish I could see you sooner than Tuesday. _

_< It’s Mom and Dad’s poker night. I’m going to do absolutely nothing later but miss you._

 

*******

 

His dad must have been lying, after all, because when Rey called him on her break hours later, it was clear she was far from repelled by his sap.

“I was just wondering… since you’re not doing anything tonight… and I know this is kind of out of the blue and not really what we usually do—”

Why did she sound so nervous?

“Just say it,” he laughed.

And so she did, and all in one breath, as if she wanted to get it out there before she lost her nerve—

“Do you want to go watch a movie later with Rose and Finn? After I finish here?”

_Huh?_

She went on, “I mean—I know you haven’t really talked much, and—and I know things have been, well, awkward—well, bad, actually, between you and Finn, but… earlier, he seemed okay that I brought your beef, and he even liked it—he said so himself—and—”

His brain felt like it was stuttering right along with her. Had she been reading his mind? Not that he was actually expecting anything—and he wasn’t even sure he really _wanted_ it. It had just been something to think about, something to try to understand better—

“—and they said they wanted to watch _Empyrean Strider Ascending_ , and I wasn’t going, but maybe if you—if you wanted… Oh, Ben—” that last burst out of her, “—I should have insisted earlier. I should have taken you with me. I’m so sorry, Ben… it’s just that I wasn’t sure—I should have asked you—”

Holy prophets, was she—?

“Rey, are you _crying_?!”

“No, no—it’s just—I’m so sorry! I had you make food for us and you didn’t even get to come!”

“Stop, stop! Gods—slow down, please!”

It was physically painful having to listen to her lament like this and not be able to do anything about it. His arms needed to be around her.

“Rey, please… it’s okay. I don’t think I would have gone, anyway, even if you’d asked. Are you okay? Please don’t cry. Please!”

“I’m not crying. I promise I’m not. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

“Okay. No, I wouldn’t have gone. It would have been awkward, and it’s Finn’s house. I wasn’t invited.”

“Rose and Grandma Tuan were asking why you just left.” At least she sounded a bit calmer now, but it was still hard to listen to the remorse in her voice. “They said you should have been there. Ben, I’m sorry—”

“Hey—not one more sorry. It’s okay, really. But if you really want to go later, we could. I mean—of course only if they’re okay with me being there.”

“I already asked. Both of them.”

“Okay. Then… yeah, let’s.”

After making sure it was okay time-wise—tomorrow being another working day for her, after all—they agreed to meet at the theater so Ben can buy them snacks and their tickets since he felt it would be too weird to ask her friends to get those for them, even if they paid later. For _him_. And even after they hung up, his heart refused to stop pounding.

What in the world had he just agreed to?

 

*******

 

Of course he was too early. More than forty minutes too early, in fact, and maybe he should have eased up on the gas on his way. The quick dinner he’d had at home was now roiling in his stomach. His mom had beamed, his parents’ friends had teased, and he had to bat away the wad of bills his dad had tried to push into his hands—and he’d thought, _gods_ , he wasn’t sixteen.

But now, walking around with nowhere to go, he certainly felt like he might as well be.

Ben Solo on a fricking _double date_.

Rey would be another twenty or thirty minutes, and he wasn’t sure he’d survive talking to her friends without her there. After getting the tickets, he burned a chunk of time looking at cake pans and muffin cups in a baking supplies store a few buildings away for a lack of anything else to do, and when he figured he should probably get those snacks already, he walked back… and straight into Rose and Finn.

Welp. Time for the long, awkward death, then.

“Hey, Ben!” Rose offered him a big smile and a wave. Finn’s eyes barely landed on him before they flittered away again, but at least he bobbed his head.

“Hi,” he gasped.

“Have you been here long? We got our tickets.”

They all started walking in the direction of the theater, and he was grateful for Rose’s friendly chatter. She asked about his cold, and she complimented his cooking. He kept his eyes locked forward because Rose’s head barely came up to his breastbone, and he didn’t want to meet Finn’s gaze. Who still didn’t talk to him. Did Rey really ask the guy if his presence was okay, or was he about to ruin everybody’s night?

He rejected the idea. He refused to be a burden.

It didn’t make him feel any less like a trapped animal, but there you go.

He realized that Rose was probably trying extra hard for Rey’s sake, too. _This is okay. Pretend it’s Rey you’re talking to._ And so he did his best at answering her questions, and even offered some of his own. He was very aware that Finn was paying close attention, even though he didn’t say much. As they stood in line for popcorn, he asked Rose about the family business, and about the professor who quit, and she seemed pleasantly surprised he knew about that. And maybe it was just a natural segue when she said—

“So are you going back to university next semester?”

His heart dropped to his feet, and he saw from the edge of his vision how Finn nudged her. He didn’t know how much they knew, how much Rey had told them. _Where was she?_

But the question hadn’t been malicious, he was sure, especially after seeing the stricken look on Rose’s face.

_Try. Try._

And so he chomped on his lips and said, “I haven’t really thought about it yet. But it’s not likely next semester.” He even managed a tight little smile.

And that was that. He felt bad when Rose fell silent. And stayed mostly silent even after they got their snacks and stood outside the theater waiting for Rey.

She was breathing hard when she got there, and she told them she’d had to look for his car so she could leave her bike with it. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning up for a kiss. His sweet girl with the worried eyes and the sweat on her brow and her hair escaping its tie. _This_ was the reason he was here. She melted his heart just by _being_. Rose was chuckling as he laid one on her lips, and even Finn had an amused smirk on his face.

This was okay.

The girls sat between him and Finn, and throughout the movie, it was so easy to turn his head and whisper at Rey’s ear and listen to her own thoughts in return. And she made jokes about the _trough_ of popcorn that sat on her lap, which they shared. Maybe if the movie had been bad, things would have been very different, but as it was…

This was more than okay. This was fucking _fun_.

Rey was the biggest part of it, he was sure. He wouldn’t have been able to relax without her, and that would go for any setting. But he was also finding himself whispering back to Rose across her, and whenever Finn exclaimed at the exciting parts, he was right there with him.

And as they left their seats after the movie, with Rey bobbing next to him on her toes as they recounted compelling bits of the story, he felt his own face mirroring the full grins on everybody else’s.

Yeah, he could do with more of this in his life, for sure.

It got awkward again, however, when the girls went to the bathroom and left him alone with Finn at the lobby. They stood in painful silence, toeing the floor and avoiding each other’s gazes.

It was Finn that first said something.

“Good movie, huh?”

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me.”

And then it came to him that it wasn’t likely Finn who’d encouraged the idea, but Rose, and he almost bit his tongue.

But Finn just said, “Yeah, anytime.”

More awkward silence.

He remembered something his mom said that last time, and so he tried again, “Rose is nice. Rey only ever says good things about her. Have you guys been together a long time?”

“What?” Finn finally looked at him, but… “You mean—oh, no—no, we aren’t—we’re not dating.”

“Oh—sorry—I thought—sorry.” He slapped his hand across his mouth. _Fucking hell_. Didn’t his mom say…?

This wasn’t a double date. How could he have gotten it so wrong? Maybe he should have asked Rey about them first. Here was yet another false assumption he’d made about the guy. Fuck his big mouth and the rest of him. Just when he thought they’d made strides, too.

To his surprise, though, Finn went on, “She did ask me last year. But we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin it if… you know. If things fell apart. She, uh, she never brought it up again, so…”

Oh.

He nodded, a jerky movement that he was sure looked as stupid as it felt. “M-maybe that’s best for now.” _You go, Mr. Romance, and all your sage advice_. He hadn’t known what else to say.

The girls were certainly taking their time.

And maybe that was a good thing, he realized. Maybe he wouldn’t get another chance.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, listen…”

But it wasn’t easy, and he found himself gulping over and over. His heart was thundering, and his lungs working to catch up to it. Finn was listening, though, and even looking at him. This was important.

“I’m sorry about the crap I said to you before.” There. And he didn’t even trip over it. “In school, I mean. Not—not going to justify any of it. It was just wrong.”

Finn had turned away, and he could see his throat was working just as frantically. And then he was nodding his head, too.

And then—

“I appreciate it, man.”

And that was that.

Relief was pain, he was finding, as it wiggled its way through his veins. His entire chest was caught in a vice.

“Next time, you should come with Rey. That shit you made was fantastic.”

A huff of laughter. Still shaky, but it felt good.

_Damn fucking good._

They went for burgers after that—it was the quickest, and it was late—and then they said their goodbyes, with promises of doing it again “sometime.” He was drained, and he was sure his precious passenger was even more so as she blinked sleepily at him. He told Rey about the thing with Finn, and she held him close and told him he did a good job. And deep in his soul, that weight that was now mostly gone told him the same thing. And she laughed when he mentioned the “double date” error he’d made.

Her kisses tasted like ketchup and onions and were the absolute best thing to save for last on a night that had blown away all his expectations. Even the sight of her uncle and his mutterings about the lateness of the hour couldn’t take away from his happiness, and his car was a cloud he floated on all the way home.

 

*******

 

He loved that they’d found their own rituals, and Tuesday was filled with more of those. They got an early start on the lake, and the experience had become less about overcoming her fear of the water than it was just enjoying the serenity of it and chatting about this and that.

But it wasn’t all just the same old things. When they tired of the water, they deviated from their usual program and took a walk through the trees. She showed him just what she looked for in the bits of bark and wood that she picked up, and his chipmunk tittered in excitement when they came across some huge mushrooms that grew out of a tree. She swore they looked like the terraces from those noble villas in Naboo, and when he told her how his grandparents got married in one of those, she gushed about the romance of it all.

It puzzled him for a moment, sure she wasn’t usually so effusive about things like that, and then he realized it was all flowing from the same thing that filled his chest every time he was with her.

And when they found a fallen log to sit on, she got on her knees between his and they both learned something new. When he kissed her after he’d caught his breath and his soul had made its way back to his body, he tasted himself on her lips, and it wasn’t bad at all—how could it be when his girl had just loved him with her mouth and given him bone-melting pleasure?

“I think I just found the inspiration for my next piece,” she told him as her eyes danced.

“I’m not sure I’d like having my dick in someone’s curio cabinet.”

She laughed. “But it’s so pretty. Fine, it won’t be for anyone else. I’d like to look at it every now and then, is all.”

“You witch. You won’t need a copy. You can look at the real thing anytime you want.”

“Can I touch, too?”

His face burned, even after all the attention he just got from her. “Mm-hmm.”

“Can I taste?”

“Maybe.”

“Can I ride?” Her voice broke a little.

“Fuck, Rey.” She was getting too bold. “Maybe if you’re very good.”

He crushed her to him and kissed her deep, and then it was his turn to please her. He got her to stand in front of him, but even her legs weren’t strong enough to withstand his worship for too long, after all, and he had her buckling into his lap, his fingers finishing what his mouth had started. Her cries echoed through the trees that she loved so much.

He dragged her away before he got too tempted to do anything more.

They had a late lunch, and he showed her the samples he’d made for her business card. She promised to send him more pictures of her work. And when their time together was up, she insisted she’d just bike her way to a book store downtown as she didn’t feel like going home yet.

The joy she brought to his life made him feel like he could fly. Like he owned the world. Like he was invincible.

But later that night, after work, he discovered, too, just how fragile that joy could be when his phone rang as he was rubbing his hair dry.

“Miss me already?” he greeted.

But her voice—her voice—this time there was no mistaking the tears in it.

“Ben… can I—can I spend the night?”

His heart seized.

“Rey—fuck—tell me you’re okay—”

“I… I had a fight with my uncle,” he managed to make out between her wheezes, “and I think I need to leave—”

Car keys in his hand, in his ratty sleep clothes and in the flip-flops he’d managed to slip on, Ben Solo flew out into the night to get his girl.

 

*******


	15. Chapter 15

*******

 

Whatever cataclysmic volley of words or objects—or body parts—Ben had been imagining in his terror-filled race to Rey’s place was markedly absent when he got there. It threw him how instead, other than the fading roar of his car’s engine as he skidded to a stop, the night was as silent as one would expect driving up an old road through the woods.

He didn’t know what to do with the fire in his blood when he jumped out and saw her bike by the side of the road, illuminated by the light that sat atop one of the tall gate posts. There appeared to be two lumpy sacks by the bike’s wheels, but he barely paid them any attention.

She was nowhere in sight.

But the rickety gate stood wide open, and as he stumbled up the dirt path, he saw her making her way out of the house, the screen door slamming behind her. His heart lurched, but it was hard to make her face out in the dark. He ran up to her and she threw herself in his arms—backpack, huge plastic bag in hand and all.  

“Rey—you’re okay? Are you okay? What happened?”

His hands were shaking as he squeezed her, as he pulled back and touched her cheek—they were dry now, at least—but she was dragging him away from the house, her fingers wrapped around his shirt.

“Let’s just go.”

He found the rain of words after all as a voice roared from inside the house.

“You leave now, you ungrateful priss, don’t you bother coming back!” Plutt’s cane smacked against the screen door in emphasis. The man limped out, the light from inside the house showing Ben how winded he was from the effort of storming after Rey. He was hunched over a little. “I took you in when you had nothing, and this is how you repay me?”

But Ben’s vision had gone red, and before he knew it, he was hissing—

“What the hell are you talking about? She’s been taking care of you all this—”

“Come on, Ben. Just ignore him.”

“Taking care of me? Taking care of me, when she’s been living in _my_ house, on _my_ dime all these years? Hah! That’s right, run off with your little boyfriend. Got a whiff of someone else’s good life, and suddenly you think you’re Queen Breha. Just like your—” a hacking cough “—just like your man-crazy mama with the first idiot who paid any attention to her.”

He felt her stiffen in the arm he had around her, but she didn’t fully stop walking.

An awful laugh erupted from Plutt. “Boy, I hope for your own sake you don’t have any expectations like your father, or you’re in for a nasty surprise. This one’s no princess even if she takes on airs. Doesn’t exactly have much going for her.”

Ben turned around and stabbed the air in the direction of Plutt with a finger.

“Don’t you—don’t you fucking talk about Rey _or_ my dad! He’s a hundred times—” He struggled against Rey’s grip on him.

Plutt went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Or maybe you’re more like your mama, taking on worthless trash like this. Unless… hah… don’t tell me you got her pregnant already. That why you’ve been so damn testy, girl?”

That was it. He was going to kill the man. Every single muscle in his body clenched in preparation to do just that, and he took a step towards the house.

“Say that again, you sonofabitch.”

But Rey held on to him tighter and tugged hard.

“Let’s just go, Ben. Please. Let’s go. _Let’s go!_ ”

Rey’s shriek stilled his feet. But he couldn’t just let it go as they walked away.

“You’ll get what’s yours, you—you fucking shit stain.”

There was that laugh again, edged by coughing. “You talk big for a loser who had to run back home to mommy and daddy.”

As he slapped Rey’s bike onto the rack—thank gods he bought the damned thing—she dumped her stuff onto the back seat. The sound of Plutt slamming the heavy wooden door of the house shut made him grit his teeth even harder.

They drove away, and his mind was a whirlpool of words he wished he could have spat at that overgrown toad. A few days ago he’d been intimidated by the man, but now… now he just wanted to finish what fucking arthritis already started. Lay him low. See how much he liked how the ground tasted, where the rest of his kind crawled.

His foot might have been too heavy on the gas again, and he might have hit the steering wheel too hard a few times with his palm, because before they turned out of the old road, Rey said, “Stop the car. Ben, stop the car.”

He did. For a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing. His jaw hurt from clenching too tight. He almost jumped when she touched his wrist. He opened his hand under hers and gripped hard, and then turned to look at her. He could barely see her in the dark.

“I’m sorry. I got—I got too angry again.”

“It’s okay.”

He _was_ still angry. “ _Fuck!_ Your uncle’s got some nerve!”

His breath gusted out. Her hand slid up his arm and tugged on his sleeve. He pulled her to him and held her, the center console making the embrace awkward. The urge to comfort her pulsed in his blood.

“Tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

“We just had words. He’d never lay a hand on me. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Piece of shit.”

She didn’t say anything to that, but just caressed his nape. As if he was the one the guy had abused.

He sighed. Shame flooded his veins. He hadn’t meant to get so aggressive, and in the back of his mind, he knew nothing good would have come if he’d actually engaged the guy physically.

This display, after promising her he’d do better.

The feel of her in his arms, her warmth, her smell—he found he needed the same comfort from her. He wanted to drag her onto his lap, but there was no space. He pressed kisses to her temple and her cheek instead. Her hair was like fine, sticky spider silk through his fingers.

“Tell me what happened.”

She settled back on her seat but kept his hand in hers. He watched in what little light there was how she licked her lips before speaking.

“You know I went downtown. Well… I was there a while. Stayed in the book store till it closed. Had dinner. Just… walked around.” She sighed.

“You told me you didn’t want to go home yet. I get why. But… you could have just stayed at the Falcon with me and Dad and Chewie.”

She smiled a tired smile. “You needed to work, and I would have been a pest. Shh.” The last she added when he was about to say something about the pest thing. She went on, “Uncle… he isn’t always this bad. It’s his leg. I know, Ben… I know that’s mostly his own fault. But it is what it is. So… I came home late. Much later than usual—and remember, the movie finished late on Sunday, too. So he needed his leg iced, and I wasn’t there. My phone had died. So he started mouthing off about me coming home late so often these days, and somehow… well, somehow he went off about… about you. You heard him.”

What? This had been about _him_?

“Your uncle gave you shit because of me?”

“He thinks… he thinks I’m trying to better myself off with you. Said stuff about… well. You know.” Her voice had gone small.

“What?”

“Money. Where your family is and… where I am in life.”

That fucking snake.

“That doesn’t even make sense. It’s not like I’m rich.”

She smiled sadly. “Your mom’s a Skywalker.”

“That’s not—”

“I know it isn’t like that. I mean… she _is_ someone, and she comes from a family of someones. Everybody knows that. I’m not saying it… defines all of her. Or you. But Uncle… Uncle thinks I see you as a ticket to the good life.”

He snorted. “Me. In my fancy penthouse above my dad’s diner. Right.”

“He’s… not a nice man. And he gets meaner when he’s in pain. But he’s just afraid no one will take care of him. And I get that. I’d be terrified, too.”

This girl. This girl with her too-soft heart.

Her voice and her gaze went far away.

“We’d been tolerating each other because there was no one else. I know that. I guess… I guess tonight, it just came to me that maybe… maybe I do want something else for myself. I don’t know what yet, but… I just wanted to think about it for a while. But Ben, I… I don’t…” Her voice broke. “I don’t want you to ever think I’m using you. I’m not, am I?”

She was breaking his heart. That question… she was asking it as if she wasn’t sure of the answer. What had that man done to her? She’d told him Plutt didn’t treat her badly. But there were lots of ways little hurts can fester on a soul.

“Get that ridiculous idea out of your head right now, Rey Kenobi. You’re the last person who’d use anyone.”

He wasn’t sure he got through to her. She’d turned her head towards him, but her eyes were out of focus. She was so far away. Maybe rest was all that could help her now. He only just noticed that she was still in the same clothes she had on all day with him. Their day together—in the water, in the woods—it almost seemed like a distant memory.

It was a little past midnight, and a lot too late in the day for his morning lark. He needed to get her to bed.

“Let’s get you home for now, sweetie.”

He belatedly bit his lip after that last word slipped out, but it made her eyes finally fix on him. That was his mom’s word, and one he couldn’t recall ever uttering himself. But it came out too easily for her.

She _was_ his sweetie. He gulped.

“Ben… I keep saying it, but you… you’re too good to me.”

He smiled, suddenly feeling stupidly shy. That damned word.

“You are at least ten times better to me, and that’s a fact.”

The kiss that she pressed to his lips lingered. He thought he tasted her despair. And her gratitude. As he drove, he thought of how he didn’t know which was more awful. He was relieved he could take her away, but he didn’t want her grateful to him that way. Not out of necessity, not because of how terrible things had gone for her.

As the car approached the Falcon, he saw his dad standing in front of the main house, and then Han was shouting. Probably calling for his mom to come out.

“Does your dad know?” There was worry in Rey’s voice.

“He saw me on my way out, and I told him. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“No, no—of course not. I was just… is this okay with them? With your mom?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” he muttered as his mom stepped out of the main house gate in her robe.

Rey gripped his arm, and he realized his mistake.

“I’m sure it’s okay.”

And it seemed he was right. His mom already had her arms open for Rey even before she got out of the car, and as she enveloped Rey in a hug and fussed over her, his dad met his eye.

“What happened?”

Plutt’s words came back to him. About Rey. About his mom and dad. Just like that, his blood was boiling again. But there was no point in rehashing it now for his dad. Maybe not ever.

And so he just said, “They had an argument. She just needs a little time away.”

He opened the back door to get Rey’s stuff—those two sacks turned out to be pillowcases—and as his dad helped him with them, he realized that his mom was already ushering Rey into the main house. What was she doing?

His dad caught the look of confusion on his face. There was a sheepish little tilt on a corner of his lips. “I told your mom, and she got your old room ready for her. Sorry, son… that’s how it is.”

He heard his mom talking to a dazed Rey when he got to the door of his old room upstairs.

“—towel and a robe for you. And if you want a snack, there’s bread and fruit in the kitchen. You’ve eaten dinner? Okay. Oh, and I could call Maz for you… What time is it? I’m sure she’ll be fine with you taking tomorrow off—”

“Oh, no, no, please, Miss Leia, I can’t—I already had my day off today. I’ll be fine.”

“All right, but… just Leia, sweetie.”

Rey was overwhelmed, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

“I’ll get her settled in, Mom. It’s really late.”

“Okay, okay. You get some sleep for now, honey.”

There was another tight hug, and even his dad patted Rey’s hair.

“Night, kid. Don’t worry about a thing.”

And then his mom was telling him, “Lock the front door on your way out.” A quick pursing of her lips and a shake of her head told Ben in no uncertain terms that he was not to sleep with his girlfriend in here tonight.

He sighed.

“Night, Mom.”

As if that wasn’t enough, his dad looked at him pointedly, and then kept the stare on him as he pushed the bedroom door open the widest it could go.

It made him chuckle.

“Okay, Dad. Good night.”

He sat next to Rey on the bed, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Through the open door, they listened as his parents made their way to their own room down the hall.

In a tired voice, she said, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called you. Like… like I needed some kind of… rescue, or something. It feels like an overreaction now. It was just a stupid little fight. And now… and now I’m putting everyone out. What would your parents think about all this?”

“Hey, did Mom or Dad look in any way inconvenienced? You know they like you.” A sudden memory lifted the corner of his lips. “I’ve never told you how often they sing your praises. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they’d been trying to sell the idea of you to me. They didn’t need to, you know.” He nudged her.

She looked up at him, and he loved the small, disbelieving smile she had on her face. She really had no idea just how easy it was to like her. At least she was smiling now.

But it didn’t last. She looked away, and for a long moment they sat in a silence that was so different from their usual. Heavy with words that didn’t know how to come out. He placed his hand on her distant knee and pulled her close until her head tipped sideways against his shoulder again.

Finally, she managed, “I thought I just wanted to get away for a while. I don’t even know why I brought so much stuff with me… it was just automatic.” She shook her head. “Springing this on you so suddenly... when I left so you could work in peace. And as soon as this happens, as soon as I switch my phone back on, I call you. I don’t even want to think about how much you were speeding on your way to the house. At _night_. I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Stop saying sorry, okay? I’m glad you called me. I’m glad you got away from… whatever else it was your uncle’s been saying to you.”

But her eyebrows remained crumpled, and her fists tight knots on her lap. Plutt’s words were probably bouncing around in her head, and Ben hated that they were twisting everything inside her now.

“Rey, listen to me. You’re one of the most—the most honorable people I’ve ever known.” The word was an awkward mouthful, but it was exactly what she was. “And the bravest. I didn’t _rescue_ you. That’s just ridiculous. You decided you didn’t want any of that bullshit anymore, and you decided to ask someone for help. What did you tell me, huh? You told me to talk to you—call you whenever I felt bad. That’s what you did tonight, too, and… I’m happy that it wasn’t just lip service. So… forget your uncle for now. You know he was just trying to be hurtful. You know there’s nothing—absolutely nothing in the shit he was saying.”

“I know.”

She was so much wiser than him, he knew. But it was one thing to know, another to have your subconscious believe it, especially if it was about yourself. She squeezed his arm and pressed her head tighter against his shoulder for a second. She didn’t say anything more.

He patted her knee. “Okay. Maybe we should just sleep for now.”

For some reason, she huffed in amusement.

“When I called you, I thought you were going to sneak me into your room.”

He chuckled and looked at the wide-open door. “Would’ve been nice.”

He waited as she dug into one of the pillow cases for sleep clothes and went off to take a quick shower. In her absence, he looked around at his old room and wondered what she thought of it. The contrast between this room and the one above the diner… it was clear he’d spent so much more of his time here, from the rows of paperbacks and comic books to the action figures and posters of fantasy worlds on the walls. And on a shelf above his desk, half-hidden behind a shoe box of old junk—

He jumped up.

In his hand, it smiled up at him just like it did all those years ago, this rough little wolf that looked far too happy to be cool. The first thing that he’d had of her, and his heart wanted to fly out of his chest at the realization. It wasn’t like she gave it to him, but the fact that a little piece of her had made its way to him even back then… if felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

If only they’d found each other at the time. If only he’d noticed she’d been looking. If only he’d known her sweetness and softness and kindness. If only he’d been there with her so she wasn’t so lonely. So _he_ wasn’t so lonely. He lay on his old bed and threw an arm over eyes that suddenly stung.

That was how she found him, and she was all over him at once, pulling his arm off and asking what was wrong.

But there wasn’t anything wrong. They were only if-onlys, and it didn’t mean anything for what they had now.

He opened his hand and showed her.

“What’s this—no! How do you have this?”

“I bought it from Maz’s place before I left. Can you believe it? I forgot all about it, but I’ve had it all this time. It’s been sitting right there all these years.”

Her eyes went round with wonder, and he loved the sparkle in them. He loved the smile that showed so much of her teeth, and he loved the dimples they pushed out. And he loved how her hands went around him as he pulled her down and held her, and he loved the sound of her snickers as they tried to keep their laughter quiet. And he loved how she smelled, fresh from her shower, her skin cool against his cheek and his arms. And he loved how she made him feel, how everything about her made his heart lurch. And he loved how she needed him, and how he needed her.

“Rey,” he said, as they lay in a tangle. His throat was tight, and his voice caught. “Rey,” he said, as his hand cupped her jaw, as he looked into these eyes that knew him, to make sure she paid attention. “I love you, Rey.”

Maybe he could have found a better time for it. Maybe when they were less tired, when they were out in the water on a beautiful day. Maybe when she was less wrung out over the events of the night and what they meant for the rest of her life.

Because every trace of amusement slid off her face, and her breath started hitching, and she was making painful sounds out of her open mouth. And her big eyes filled with tears, and then her face was crumpling, and she was crying in earnest against his shirt. He could do nothing but hold her against him. She wasn’t pushing him away, at least—was, in fact, curling herself up tightly against him, his shirt straining from how her fingers gripped it.

He really shouldn’t have. And now he couldn’t be selfish. He couldn’t worry about what her crying meant, so soon after he said those words. So he swallowed the hard lump in his throat and blinked his eyes real fast and rubbed her back, even as her sobs whipped at his heart.

When her crying gentled a little, he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. He felt a little cold.

“I can’t apologize for saying it, Rey. I just wanted you to know. It’s not—not to make you feel better, not because of anything that happened tonight. Or… not just because of it. It’s just what’s true right now. I just really wanted you to know.”

It got her going again. But she moved up until her hiccups landed on his neck instead, and it seemed it was because she was trying to talk through them, trying to get closer to his ear.

“It’s just that… you’re the first person who’s ever—who’s ever said that to me.”

He didn’t hear it often, himself—really, just from his mom. But he couldn’t remember ever feeling any great need to have anyone say it to him because he knew he already had it. From his parents. From Chewie. Because they showed it to him all the time, even when he thought they never understood him.

And even now, he realized, he got so much of it from Rey.

But things were very different for her. She’d never had a surplus of it to take for granted.

She went on in her crackling voice, “I mean… I know Rose and Finn do. And I love them. But we’ve never—we’ve never really said it out loud. We’ve all just gotten along. Ben… it means so much coming from you.”

He kissed her flooding eyes, her wet cheeks, her gasping lips.

“What do I do, Ben? Why can’t you be a little less nice? A little less sweet?”

A burst of laughter escaped him. “You’re the only one who would ever think that.”

_You’re the only one that’s made me want so desperately to be all that_.

“Maybe—maybe I wouldn’t feel so much for you, huh?” she wailed.

He knew she did, and he would never stop wondering just _why_ she did. Oh, how she filled his cup. They were a hopeless pair.

He was starting to worry about her breathing because she was wheezing so much. But she needed to let it all out. All this emotion… it wasn’t just one thing—not just Plutt, not just his poorly-timed declaration. She’d been trying to be strong on her own for too long. And so he simply held her through the rest of it.

She mumbled something as soon as her wracking sobs slowed down enough.

“What’s that?”

“I love you, too, Ben.”

He smiled against the top of her head. “I know.”

She smacked his chest.

“You need to sleep if you’re going to work in the morning.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Let’s get you some water. Stay here.”

He padded downstairs and got her a big glass. And on a small plate, he placed a handful of fat cookies from his dad’s stash. Just in case.

She was half-asleep, her nose red, her eyes bruised from her crying and from the lateness of the hour. And he watched as she decimated the pile.

He tasted the chocolate on her lips, and then he turned the lights off and pulled the sheet over her shoulders. The darkness was delicious, and only a bit of light from a street lamp filtered through the windows. But as he settled behind her, she stiffened and then lifted herself on her elbows.

“What are you doing?”

“I promise, no funny business. You need to sleep.”

“That’s—that’s what I’m trying to do. But why are you…?”

“What?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think your mom would like it if she finds you here with me.”

“We’re just sleeping.”

“I know, but… please, Ben. I’m already imposing.”

He felt an irrational curl of hurt worming its way inside him. Walking back to his room was the absolute last thing he wanted to do when she was right here. He sat up.

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She grabbed his arm in the dark.

“You’re not mad, are you? You can’t be mad—”

How could he be when she was hugging him like this, showering him with kisses in the darkness? He sighed.

“I’m not. Welp… I’m leaving, so go to sleep right away.” He caressed her thigh. “Don’t stay up thinking of me.”

The effect was somewhat ruined by her old pajama bottoms, and her gasp ended in a snort.

“Good night, Ben.” She pressed herself against him, grabbed his face and very carefully licked into his mouth. “You do that, too. Have nice dreams.”

“’Kay. See ya.”

He stood up and left before more of him stood up to stay.

And when he got to his own bed that felt a little too spacious, a little too cool, he sent her a message. Just a single emoji, really.

_<  _🖤

_> I know. _

Witch.

 

*******

 

He’d set his alarm for seven o’clock to see about her breakfast, but he found she was already up and dressed when he got to the house. And even through his early morning brain fog, it was obvious as soon as he saw her in the dining table with his parents just how awkward she was feeling. Her eyes latched onto him in desperation.

If that didn’t clue him in, the fact that she was nibbling on her flatbread was an alarm bell. Rey never _nibbled_. His mom, already in her work suit, sipped her coffee serenely as she scanned the news on her phone. He couldn’t tell if she was oblivious to Rey’s nervousness or just trying her best to ignore it in a bid to ease it. And his dad was chattering away, as usual, over his own plate of food.

“—could argue all they want, but I’d already heard that starting pistol sputtering before. If Hutt’s guy had contested it that first time, they’d have said it was a false start. And I knew Greedo was his guy _this_ run, so d’you think I was gonna take a chance? I’m not an idiot. So off I go as soon as—hey, sunshine. You’re up early. There’s beef hash. D’you want eggs with it?”

He dropped to the seat beside Rey, took her hand and plopped his face in the crook of his arm on the table. To his dad’s question, he only shook his head.

He had his eyes closed, and he let the mostly one-sided conversation flow around him, still so close to sleep, just squeezing Rey’s hand. For whoever knew how long, his dad prattled on, and he only roused from his haze when his mom made noises about leaving for work.

“I could drop you off, Rey. And maybe tonight we can go home together, too. What time do you finish? Oh, I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. I’ll just take my bike. It’s too early for my shift.”

When his mom stood up, Rey did, too, automatically. He watched as they scrabbled over the dishes, and he smiled at her skittish little victory when she told his dad she’d do them since he made breakfast. And then his mom was off to work, and his dad left for their bedroom. When it was just him and Rey at the table, she sighed in relief.

“Your parents are too… well, too kind.”

_Too much_ was what he’d have used, but he supposed she was right, too. Poor girl wasn’t used to being fawned over, and that was on top of having been torn away from her usual morning routine. They cleared the table and washed the breakfast things together.

It was nice, he thought.

But awkward as hell, too. His girlfriend had just spent the night at his parents’ house _without_ him, and though he was sure his mom and dad would let her stay however long she needed, and though he could get used to having her around like this all the time, he knew the situation was temporary. How temporary, he didn’t know how to ask about. She’d brought some of her things with her, but this had all been so sudden and so unplanned. And Plutt had been pretty clear that she wasn’t going to be welcomed back.

And maybe all that was running through her mind, too, because her shoulders were stiff, her expression pinched, her movements just the slightest bit jerky over the sink.

He needed to try something. Anything.

“So… uh… have you given any more thought to that commission?”

Her expression brightened a little. “Oh, yeah, I’ve made some sketches. If you want to see them, I can show you later. I tried one of them, actually, just to get a feel for it, but it doesn’t seem quite right for a flat piece.” But then she stilled. “I left it at the house. And some of my tools. And… and my computer.”

She had an old desktop computer, he knew. There was no way they could have taken it with them last night, with how they left. He squeezed the soapy sponge in his hand a few times as he thought of what to say.

“We can get them. Do you want to go now? There’s still time before you have to go to work.”

“What am I doing, Ben? I just… I just up and left on a whim.”

But was it a whim? She hadn’t been happy in that place, and he was sure the thought had crossed her mind before. And maybe a little selfishly, he thought, better that it happened now so that she could stay with him.

“You needed to get away. I mean… aren’t you relieved just a little?”

He could see her throat working, but she only said, “Of course.”

And then she was quiet again as she resumed rinsing out a plate.

He didn’t want to pressure her into making any kind of decision. Maybe tonight, after she’d had the entire day to think, things would be clearer for her.

He tried to distract her all morning, asking about her sketches, showing her his mom’s little “garden” on one side of the house and pushing her on the hammock. Every little smile was a victory, but most of them were underlined by a tension that never fully went away. When he talked about dinner, she told him, “We’ll see… I might just eat at work.” He knew that was what she usually did because of time constraints, but now that she could actually have dinner here, maybe with him on his break… But he didn’t force the issue. And he thought she left way too early for work, even accounting for the new route she had to take.

She was overwhelmed and closing up, and he had the rest of the day to think of that.

He tried not to bug her with too many text messages, but he was relieved he got a “ _haha, i want whatever he’s having_ ” from her on her break, after he sent her a GIF of a cute puppy happily getting its nose stuck in a cup of cream. And when she got home from work, she only stopped by the Falcon long enough for a short chat. And by the time they closed up, she was already asleep. The last two days had clearly taken their toll on her.

This was not what he’d imagined when he thought of bringing her home.

He went to bed with a heavy heart.

 

*******

 

The next day was more of the same, but that night at least, he got to talk with her after closing. As they curled together in the dark in his old bed, his face on her chest, she told him she missed her morning walks. She didn’t have all her tools, too, or a place to work on her whittling, and he knew it stressed her out. She didn’t want to make a mess anywhere in the house, apparently, or in his room over the diner as he’d suggested. He wondered why she was resisting the idea that it was fine since they could just clean up after.

And then he realized, in a wordless lull, that it wasn’t really that she didn’t have a workspace here. For how resilient she’d been, she’d found so much comfort and stability in her rituals, in her spaces. Her woods had been part of her life for so long—since she’d come to town, really—and so much of herself was forged in her workshop, right along with her creations. They’d been her havens.

And she’d left all that behind because her uncle had said something about him.

He knew he shouldn’t blame himself, but he was part of the reason. He remembered how she’d flaunted him that first time he saw Plutt, telling the man she’s got a boyfriend. Like it had been a challenge, or a threat. The toad’s words about Rey’s mom… who knew how often he’d spoken the same way in the past? The guy was a shitty guardian, and that was all the reason Rey needed to leave, but Ben had definitely been a factor in her new-found defiance.

And so he asked her, “You know what we’ll do on Saturday?”

“What?”

“We’re going to take a drive in the morning, and you’re going to show me your woods. Your favorite spots. You’ve been holding out on me, huh.”

“Really? You mean… close to the house?”

“Yeah. We’ll bring breakfast and eat there.”

“I’d love that.”

“And we’ll stay out of sight. I don’t want your uncle to kill me.”

That earned him a chuckle.

“He can’t hurt you. He’s all bluster.”

“Okay, okay.” And then, in an exaggerated whisper, “I don’t want to kill him.”

“No killing anyone, please. What would I do if they take you away for forty years?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Just don’t marry Dameron.”

“Eh?” she huffed.

Yeah, it was silly now. And that’s why it was easy to tell her, “I thought you were one of his ‘fans.’ Did I ever tell you? That’s why I was an ass to you that first time.”

“Oh, gods, Ben. Are you serious?” She chuckled. “Let me state, for the record, that I have never, for even a second of my life, been attracted to Poe that way. He’s too charming.”

“Charming, my ass.” He snorted. “Wait. What about me? You said you had a hot, heavy crush on me back then. So you’re saying _I’m_ not charming?”

She pinched an inch of flesh on his back. And he loved how she dug her toes against the back of his knee. “I said it wasn’t a—look, the hot and heavy thing came later. And no, you know full well you weren’t. You were like this… this wounded wolf. Never smiled. I think you scared some people.”

“Thanks.”

“Poe flattered everyone. It’s natural to him, though. It’s not really insincere, I don’t think. He just wants people to like him. But you… you were more likely to flatten someone.” She snickered.

“Oh, she’s clever. Sooo clever.”

“He’s slick,” she said as she caressed his earlobe. “With you, that’s… more like an effect.”

“Hmm?”

“You know. An effect. You make—you make people slick. Well… me, at least. Come on, Ben, work with me here.”

Oh. _Oh._

“Oh? Do I?”

“Yep.”

It was too easy to go from the constant low buzz he got whenever he was close to her to full mast. He cupped the back of her thigh and settled himself against her heat. It was delicious how they burned, but it was also such sweet comfort.

“I make you slick, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like… a pan of grease? Or an oil spill?”

“No. Like… like my bits desperate to get close with your bits.”

Fuck, he needed this. He needed her.

“Which bits?” he asked against her hot mouth. He fucking loved how she sucked his tongue in.

“These bits,” she said, as she rocked herself against him.

He needed to feel for himself, and he was filled with fire and hope and so many emotions for this girl, and the packets that he’d finally managed to make sure he had with him in his pocket gave him courage. He pushed her shirt up and licked a wet trail across one soft slope and captured her nipple in his mouth just as she plunged her hand into his sweatpants and wrapped it around his cock. He gasped, and her nipple popped free of his mouth.

And then she was pushing him onto his back roughly, and in the next second tugging his sweatpants down with her other hand as she sat up on his knees. And that hand began working him—it felt too fucking good, even with her imperfect rhythm as she leaned over him and sucked all his breath into her own mouth—

“Ben? You still here?”

_No—no—shit—_

They scrambled to right their clothes at the sound of his dad’s voice, and then there was a soft knock.

“Y-yeah, Dad, just saying good night to Rey.”

_Prophetsfuckingdammit._

“Okay. The front door, is all. Night.”

Silence.

He’d been scared soft, and Rey suddenly giggling under her pillow didn’t help.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he hissed as he lifted her arm and feathered his fingers under it. “You think the state of my balls is a joke?”

“Never—stop, stop!” she wheezed. “Your b-balls are very important to me!”

“I’m not convinced.”

She sat up and pushed his arms away, and then draped her own around him. She breathed against his ear.

“I’ll give them their due respect. We just need better timing.”

“Fine.” He got off the bed and grumbled. “I didn’t even get to check if you were telling the truth about this slick thing you’re claiming. Sounds too good to be true, if you ask me.”

She went on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Good night, Ben.”

“Just for now.”

“My sweet man.”

He didn’t know it was possible to have his heart soaring and so heavy all at once, but that was exactly how he made his way back to his room.

 

*******

 

The sound of the piano slowed his steps late the next night as he made his way into the house, and he looked on, unnoticed, as Rey sat close to his mom on a chair she’d obviously dragged from the dining room. There was a honky-tonk ditty which made Rey bob her head, followed by a whimsical section of a suite that Ben had almost forgotten. And in between, the two women chattered softly to themselves. Rey, like so many people, was in awe of his mom and her talent, and he knew that right now, Leia Skywalker was trying extra hard for her captive audience.

He found he couldn’t come close.

He escaped and sat on the front step and let the notes from inside the house flay him.

 

*******

 

She showed him her woods just as he’d asked, but none of it was as lovely as her in the morning sunlight that made its way between the trees. The silent awareness was so sharp here, and it suffused her every step, her every short word, her every tight smile in this space that was hers. He thought she’d feel better once she was back in familiar territory, but it seemed to be doing the exact opposite. And he knew that her distance wasn’t because he wasn’t welcome here, but still, he hated how it forced a mask on her.

“Rey.” He pulled her to a stop. “Rey, talk to me. Tell me what’s hurting you. Please.”

He looked down at her faraway eyes. But her hand gripped his.

“I’m afraid, Ben.”

“Of what?”

“I just… I just feel like I’m adrift. Like I don’t know where I’m going.”

He knew the feeling.

She went on, “My uncle is in that house by himself, and he’s not responding to my messages.”

He didn’t know she’d been trying to contact Plutt. But why? Why, when he’d practically driven her out?

“I don’t know if he’s taking his medicine, or what he’s eating. Or if he’s even eating.” She gulped. “There’s no love between us, but… he took me in, and he needs my help with things. All these years, that’s been what I’ve had to do. It’s just… very weird. I wasn’t… I wasn’t happy there. But it’s unsettling to be away. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

No, not weird, he thought. It was how she’d lived. It was all she knew. Not weird, but it was hard to accept, he could imagine, now that she was looking at things from a distance and not going through the motions at the moment.

“You feel like it’s your duty to take care of him.”

“I guess you can put it that way. And now I’m staying at your parents’ house. Not even with you. I can’t stay in your old room forever. I’m not complaining, Ben—please, don’t think that.”

“I know. You’re the last person to complain about anything. Honestly, sometimes I wish you’d complain _more_.” He caressed her cheek.

“Your parents are very generous. Han won’t even let me pay for my meals.”

He was surprised. Did she actually ask his dad? It hadn’t crossed his mind, but now he understood that it would have bothered her. He remembered her words from long ago about hating how other people felt bad for her.

“Do you want me to talk to him about that?”

“No—no, that’s not it. I’ll find a way, I know.”

That last one wasn’t just about paying for her food, he knew.

She went on, “I just feel kind of overwhelmed. It feels like everything’s off-center, and I don’t know which… thing to put right first.”

He felt so helpless. It was hard to be objective because at this point, he was just as clueless about the future. He wished he had useful insight he could offer her. But he’d fucked up his own life. He was the last person to give advice about purpose.

But he remembered something.

“Your woodwork. What about that? That’s always something you can plan around.”

“Mm. You’re right.” She sighed. And he thought maybe there was a bit of resolve in her nod. “Yeah, you’re right. I can get my tools in order. Maybe… maybe I can talk to Maz about her back room upstairs.”

His heart dropped. He could be very, very selfish, and he hated it. He chomped on his lips.

“Do you mean you’ll move there?”

Her eyes searched his. And maybe understood his fear.

“I mean as a workshop. For now.”

Stupid, selfish heart… stupid, selfish relief that she wasn’t saying she’d be leaving.

He gulped. “I’ll help you get your stuff in there.”

She smiled. A real one, this time. “I know.”

And then she hugged him.

“I’m happy I have you helping me sort all this out, Ben.”

“I’m happy you let me.”

“I can do this.”

“You’ll smash it.”

They didn’t stay away from the sawmill, after all. She asked him to help her get her stuff, and he bit his tongue and clenched his teeth as he stood outside the home she was leaving. There was a part of him that regretted not being able to have seen the inside of the place she’d grown up in, but it couldn’t be helped now. There was no shouting, at least, and he was only grateful that Plutt kept his muttering minimal and that he didn’t give her any real trouble about her things.

And later, in almost the exact same spot they’d stopped at on the road on Tuesday night, he listened as she told him of how she’d asked—begged—her uncle to call her if he needed anything. And then he held her through her tears again.

 

*******

 

Here was the Sunday dinner he’d dreamed of all those days ago, when his feelings for Rey felt so much simpler, and when all he’d hoped for in his fantasies was that his mom and dad wouldn’t embarrass him in front of her. It was a late meal because his mom had insisted on waiting for her to come home from work. She’d flushed at the consideration, but she seemed less and less awestruck by his mom as the days passed. His dad had praised his pork chops, and Rey was telling them about something that had happened at work.

They were all trying, and it was more than enough for now.

There was only one more thing.

“Dad,” he said as they finished, “is it okay if I leave the dishes to you?”

“You going somewhere?”

His mom’s eyes were on him. But he tried his best not to look away.

He squeezed Rey’s hand. “Just—just moving Rey’s things to my room. She’ll be staying there from now on.”

For a moment, there was only silence and round eyes. Rey’s hand twitched in his.

And then his dad smirked.

“Sure, kid.”

With Rey’s hand in his, they swooped out.

 

*******


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who hasn't yet watched The Rise of Skywalker, please know that this chapter contains a reference to an important plot point in the movie, and I wouldn't want to spoil anything for you if that's the case. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you all are having a great start to 2020. :)

*******

 

Rey had fallen asleep.

This was not a scenario that Ben had anticipated—in fact, it was the exact opposite of everything he’d hoped for for the night after his little announcement at the dinner table in front of his mom and dad. After the two of them all but ran up to his old room to gather her things and deposit them into this one, where they belonged from now on, right with his own stuff. Where she belonged, right with him.

After he took a goddamned shower. _And_ shaved his stubble off. _And_ examined his fingernails closely. At 11 PM.

It was kind of embarrassing, really, how eager he’d been, even though they didn’t say anything. Not with words, at least, but what they both wanted was clear in the breathless kisses they shared—textured by the trembling of nerves—up in his old room, as soon as they closed the door of _this_ room, and as she stepped out of the bathroom right before his turn in it. Hell, it was crystal clear even to his parents.

And now here he was, body clean, face smooth, fingernails cut short—

Balls so blue.

He couldn’t even follow the twists of irony anymore. After all these days of telling himself he was ready, after that fumbled attempt with her a few nights ago in his old room, he only bothered with all of this tonight because he’d all but formally declared to everybody his fucking intentions. Quite literally.

He sighed. There was always tomorrow.

She was a different kind of pretty in sleep, with how gravity played with the lax muscles of her face and pulled them in funny ways he’d never seen before. He could probably watch her for hours just like this. It made the frustrated hunger easier to swallow, his body’s reaction to the bareness of her legs outside her panties easier to ignore as she curled up around herself. He even found the corner of his lips twitching as he listened to her mild snuffling. It had been a long week for her. His morning lark.

There was nothing else to do but lie down next to her and gather her body—so warm in sleep, and where did all this softness come from, when she was all tightly-strung muscle that hummed with energy when she was awake?—gently to him. And as she nuzzled against him without opening her eyes, he felt a rush of happiness, right up to his throat where it pushed itself into a ball, and right behind his eyes that felt a bit too warm. And soon he fell into the same peace with her.

But he was woken up after who knew how long by the hard press of her against his side. Her face on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around him, fingers digging into his ribs, her sniffling against his soul. Panic blew his eyes wide in the darkness. He sat up, reached over and switched his desk light on, and her face below him was a rictus of pain he couldn’t stand.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He brushed the hair off of her brow.

She only shook her head hard.

“Rey—baby, you gotta talk to me. You gotta let me help. Please.”

“Just—just a bad dream.”

A _nightmare_ brought this on? What terrible thing had bled into her subconscious so insidiously for her to be this devastated by a nightmare?

“What was it?”

She chuckled in the middle of her tears, and it only worried him even more. Her watering eyes sought his, and then her out-of-place smile was gone again. The hand he had on her wet cheek, she enfolded between hers and brought to her mouth. There was a desperation in how she pressed it to her lips, but still, no words. As soon as he leaned closer, her arms wrapped around his neck and held tight.

“Tell me,” he begged against the cloud of her hair.

She surprised him again when her closed fist hit the back of his shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Don’t you—” she hiccupped, “—don’t you _ever_ think I’d be grateful if you gave up your life for me.”

Eh?

“What do you mean?”

“That would be the single—the single _stupidest_ thing you could do.” She grabbed his hair and pulled him back, and he could only look on as her brow curled. Was she mad at him? Over a dream? She went on in a growl, “I’d hunt you down and kick your—your stupid ghost ass if you leave me like that. What do you think I’d do the rest of my life without you, huh? Screw that life sacrifice bullshit!”

With that forceful denouncement, she bounced up off the bed and stomped to the bathroom. Her bare legs flashed.

What the heck?

He sat up and looked at his phone. It was a little past 1 AM. From behind the closed door, he heard the water running and some very loud nose-blowing. _Just a dream_ , and he was so relieved _._

When she stepped out, she seemed calmer, but an embarrassed almost-smile played at her lips even as she pursed them. He tried to keep his own face straight.

He stayed still as she sat next to him, not quite knowing how to react, but then she wrapped her arms around him. That was his cue to dip closer, and as soon as he did, she hid her face in his neck. The whole thing was very strange. And very cute—but he would never tell her that.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “This is silly.”

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. It’s not every midnight I get a cute girl trying to flirt with me like this.”

“Shut up and hold me. Please.”

She didn’t really have to tell him, but it was nice to hear her ask for it. And so he did better and dragged her onto his lap. Under her warm, barely-clad bottom, he twitched.

“It was just a dream.” He rubbed her back. His precious girl.

“Yeah. But—” he felt her ribs shake a little again as she fought the emotion, “—but it felt so real. You died in my arms.”

“That’s damned inconsiderate of me. Sorry—sorry, I shouldn’t joke.” He plopped a kiss on her cheek in apology. And then he remembered something. “Was it the lake thing? From when we…? Or—you’ve never told me, but do you get nightmares about the water?”

“No, no, it’s not that. Well… I don’t know. But I don’t… I can’t even remember the rest of it. Just that you saved me and died for it.”

He could only find amusement in this, he knew, because she’d been able to laugh at herself and because he wasn’t the one who’d dreamed it.

She leaned back and cupped his jaw in her hands, her red-rimmed eyes going over his face as if checking if he was really okay. He’d had dreams like that, dreams that kept their hold on your emotions long after you woke up. And so he gave her a little smile. But instead of being comforted by it, her brow only crumpled up more, and there was a fresh sheen of moisture on her eyes.

“You smiled just like that.” Her voice cracked. “Just… the most beautiful smile, and then you just—you just flopped back.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. Kissed her damp, trembling lips. But she pulled him back, not quite done looking at him. He looked right back, and there was more than just physical symmetry making her so damned beautiful. All the little movements, all the things her face said without words.

“Sometimes,” she said in her still-raw voice, “it terrifies me how much I feel for you.”

He understood what she meant. How many times had he torn himself up thinking about her?

But he told her, “I don’t want you—I don’t want us afraid. I want us happy. About… about this thing.”

“I am happy. Of course I’m happy. That’s exactly why it’s scary. I mean look at me,” she snorted, “I’m a mess just because of a silly dream.”

“Well… I’m not planning on going anywhere without you. And—okay, noted on the no self-sacrifice thing. But only if you can promise the same thing, because believe me, I’d kick your ass, too, if you did that. I’d hate doing it, too, ’cause—” he said in an exaggerated whisper right next to her ear, “—I quite like your ass, Rey Kenobi.”

She huffed. “You do have big feet.”

“Big everything.” He stretched his lips in a huge closed-mouth grin for her.

A look crossed her eyes. But in the next second, she pinched his chest. Barely missed his nipple, and he gasped.

“You didn’t, you—”

But she did _again_.

“Oh, you’ve done it.”

He started to get up, but she kissed him.

“Truce!”

“I dunno. A wise man one said: _a nipple for a nipple_.”

“Just try it.”

He placed the pads of his fingers on the very tip of her breast, pressed in a little, and then kept them utterly still. She jumped in surprise and then snorted. And then there was that look in her eyes again.

He could feel her puckering. Their little game was turning into something else.

He pulled his hand away and told her, “Justice has been served.”

He loved making her smile, even though there wasn’t a lot of time to look at it because she was kissing him again. And he loved that even more. Careful and deep this time, and he savored how she savored him.

“You’re a dream,” she breathed into his mouth. “My best dream.”

Gods, how she made him warm. Like a blushing schoolboy. Which he’d never been, and yet here he was, a grown-ass man, and his girlfriend was setting fire to his cheeks.

But he had to tell her, “I’d rather be solid and right here for you than a dream. Just like you are to me.” He squeezed her.

“I guess—” she nibbled on his lips, “—I guess if you were just a dream, I wouldn’t be able to do this, huh?”

“Mm.”

She shifted in his arms and they scuttled backwards on the bed together. She straddled him fully. And then her face was pressing against his ear, against his neck, against his jaw, and it was more than just kisses, he knew. She was taking him in with every crush of her lips, every little flick of her tongue, every deep breath of him she took. With her eyes on his face, her hands in his hair, he’d never felt more aware of himself. More seen. More loved.

But her gentle exploration didn’t last, and soon he had to brace himself with a hand on the bed as she strained against him. His soft girl’s mouth and tongue and arms became anything but. He loved how strong she was, how she could push back. She was so alive in his arms, and her every little twitch made his heart jump. Hot friction all over him, and he reveled in her need. Her hips fluttered above him, and his rose to meet them.

Were they going to…?

“Back in school I thought you were cute. Moved cute. Pouted cute.” She thumbed his lower lip in emphasis. “You go away, and you come back, and you’re just… Just looking at you, you made me feel all quivery. Then you let me close… and you let me kiss you, and you taste good. Smell so good.” She moaned. “Everything about you drives me crazy.”

If it was any other time, he would laugh at how she was describing the very things he felt about her.

“’S only fair. Fuck… you know what you do to me.”

And just to be sure that she did, he crushed a firm cheek in his hand and notched his erection against her heat. Her knees squeezed him. The way his sweat pants and her panties rubbed between them, the way he could almost feel her wetness through the layers of clothing—he could die from the sensation.

Harder to think. “D’you like that?”

She bit her lip. “Uh-huh.”

“Lemme see.”

It wasn’t seeing, exactly, but just like that, his hand slipped inside her underwear— _fuck_ , it had been way too long—and she was hot and slick and soft already. He unthinkingly dipped his finger in a short way, and at once her muscles clamped on his hand and she gasped. He pulled out, but she grabbed his wrist.

“Sorry—sorry—”

“Don’t stop.”

She lifted on her knees between his to make more room for his hand, and he pushed her panties down. He caught her waist and held her close, and through heavy lids, he looked up at her as his fingers stroked through the folds of her sex. It was a joy to watch her throw her head back and fall apart, and the helpless sounds that came from her throat—he wanted to lick up and down that long, fragrant neck—plucked at every muscle of his body. Her arm snaked around the back of his head and squeezed him close, and he could drown in the scent between her still-covered breasts. Soap and _Rey_.

“Ben… please… don’t want to wait any more.”

Yeah, they were going to.

It was time.

“Okay.”

But he was aware that he was losing his mind over this too fast. He needed to slow down. And so he moved his hand away and tugged her down until they were face to face again.

_Slow._

In between kisses, he told her, “I need to see you. Need to remember all of you.”

This moment… this first time was only ever going to come once.

She moved her hand over his straining cock, and he savored it for a second, but then he gripped her wrist.

He plopped her in front of him and peeled her panties all the way off. “Lean back—no, don’t lie down. Look at me. Look at us. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

She did as he asked and propped herself up on her elbows, and he watched the dazed, hungry look on her face that he was sure was also present on his own. She was breathing hard, and the rise and fall of her chest brought her stiff nipples, which tented her loose shirt, to his attention. So fucking sexy, and it distracted him from his original goal of burying his face between her legs.

He couldn’t help himself, and so he bent forward and caught one of them in his mouth. The taste of cotton and Rey dampened by his saliva was so distinct, and the way her nipple met his tongue and lips drove him mad. It was automatic, how his lips shaped themselves around her, how his jaw moved so his teeth clamped gently around the hard peak. She made a sound that stretched between “ow” and “ohh,” and he thought he’d hurt her when she pulled back, but then it was only so her frantic hands could slip her shirt off. In the next second, her fingers tangled in his hair and her back arched, and his nose and his mouth were once again pillowed by her breast. He rewarded her urgency with a lick.

_Slow._

He had to love her other breast, too—opened his mouth wide over it and sucked hard, the tip of his tongue swirling over it. A cry escaped her throat, thin and high. From the corner of his eye, he could see the wet peak he just left, pink-brown perfection glistening in the low light, and he pressed his thumb onto it. Pleasure buttons—and she mewled under him as he licked and pinched, suckled and rolled, his face and fingers following her as her chest pushed air in and out hard.

She tugged at him and he let her direct him—straight to her mouth, and he was suddenly aware as she licked his lips that they’d been wet with his own spit. She didn’t seem to mind, and their kisses were messy and loud and delicious, and it all went straight to his head.

He took a while to realize that she was saying something.

“Take them off. I want to feel all of you.”

He grunted and sat up, and in a motion that was way smoother than he felt pulled his shirt off. He still had enough presence of mind to leave his pants on—if he didn’t, he might just explode as soon as his dick came in direct contact with her warm skin. Couldn’t have that. He took a steadying breath and tried to focus.

_Slow._

And focus his eyes did, too, all over her. She was naked in front of him, in his bed—her hair in disarray, her eyes glowing under her droopy lids, her lips and nipples damp and puffy and red from his kisses, her torso heaving, those long legs bent at the knees, toes curling like a cat’s, and her pussy glistening as her hips rolled— _all just for him_ , and she was a fucking weapon and she destroyed him utterly. All of it he’d seen before, part by part, but never like this—so completely bare, not even a sock or a hair tie on her, just the cool air and the low light on her skin. And never with the knowledge that he was about to have it all.

Every inch of her deserved to be thoroughly loved.

Even as he looked at her, her hand crept between her legs and she comforted herself, an automatic thing.

“I ache, Ben.”

“I know, baby. I do, too.”

He crowded close, and she wrapped her limbs around him. He could feel the wetness on his nape when her hand landed there, and it was like she’d marked him. He caught her wrist and put her sticky fingers in his mouth. It was female flavor and perfume, but just for him—impossible that anyone else would be driven to the depths of want as he was by her scent. There was something about pheromones and immunity and attraction that floated in the back of his mind—but really, what it came down to was plain animal need, far from intelligent or subtle, and nothing he could describe in polite conversation. Rey was _his_ , his to kiss, his to love, his to fuck—

And he was hers, too, and she knew it: her hand, once again, tried to stake its claim, and it would have felt so good to let her. But he pushed it away, off and up over her head.

He groaned into her mouth, “You’ll break me too soon if you touch me like that.”

She smiled, a sensual curling of her lips that was new, happy in her hold over him. She probably wasn’t even conscious of it.

“Is it wrong that I like the thought?”

A chuckle escaped him. “You won’t like it when I black out after three seconds in your hand. Please… I want to make this good for you.”

_Slow._

All over her face, his lips feathered. And his teeth on the soft flesh under her chin, on her neck. He could feel her eyes on him as he made his way down. A freckle here and there—and her collar bones marked a ready trail, and past that, the shallow valley of her chest. He took a second to press his ear to her heart—it beat so strong for him—and he continued, licking the salt from below her breasts, down and across her ribs, where his wet tongue made her giggle. His own laughter, he blew into her tummy.

The joy of it all took some of the edge off. Made it easier to manage his need so he could kiss her short, neat hair and the line where her leg met her torso, and not have his proximity to her weeping center drive him mad. He was even able to lift her thigh up so he could pay attention to its underside, from the warm crease behind her knee to the supple flesh of her ass. The taste and scent of her skin was payment for his patience.

But he could only stay away for so long. And when he looked up at her, her eyes were full of pleading anticipation.

He licked her, and she shuddered.

 _Slow_ … and thorough. As much for himself as it was for her. He was instantly drunk on her flavor. Her pussy lips were tender, and so thickly _wet_ , a warm spring that kept flowing for him. His nose was buried in the hair that trapped her scent, and he kept his eyes on her face—it was a challenge to even keep them from rolling back in the ecstasy of loving her like this, but he wanted to burn the sight of her onto his irises. His dear girl, shaking and gasping in the pleasure that he was giving her. She twitched when his tongue brushed against her clit, and it was all he could do not to come inside his sweatpants.

He used his thumb to open her up even more, and deep he went, and it was earthy and noisy and obscene—everything he’d ever wanted. Tang and salt and _female_. He pushed the same thumb into her—in and out and slick and _slow_. He made sure his knuckle hit the ceiling of her hot channel each time— _just so_ , just like how they said she’d like it, pressure more than friction. And maybe they were right because inexpert as his attempts were, her hips rocked with him, riding his thumb, and she was moaning with each fluttery, slick pass. And when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, she came—his name broken and almost silent on her lips as her lungs seized with the rest of her body.

She shook hard, like she’d break if he didn’t do something, and so he pulled his thumb out and moved his face to her tummy—she’d be oversensitive right now, they said—kept it there and kissed her belly-button even as she twisted to her side, and he ran his hand up and down, from her waist, over her ass, down to her thighs and back again to soothe her. His heart squeezed at her sweet response.

When she went limp, he shimmied up and held her.

“Are you trying to kill me?” she whispered. “What will I do when you get even more practice?”

He glowed at her satisfaction with his bumbling efforts.

“Keep up?”

Her laughter gusted against his face. She’d draped her thigh over his hip as they lay on their sides, but even though he was harder than ever, catching their breaths like this was pretty nice, too. She snagged his lips with her own.

“I can taste myself on you,” she told him.

“Does it bother you?”

She licked into his mouth. “No. I think—I think I like it.” He felt more than saw her smile. “It’s the Ben Effect I told you about. Make me so wet for you.”

He groaned and ground against her. Chased her tongue with his own. “Maybe we should examine that phenomenon more, huh?”

They weren’t quite done yet. But she was pushing him to his back and he knew that she was thinking it was his turn.

“Nah,” he said.

“What?”

“Stay like this.”

“But—”

He kissed her hard and squeezed her sweet ass. His fingers burrowed through her cleft and felt her up from behind, and when they brushed against her tight pucker unintentionally, she gasped.

“No, Ben, not—”

“I know. Shh.”

He hadn’t even thought about that, but the very idea made his cheeks burn.

“I just want to touch you,” he whispered against her mouth.

“But I want to touch you, too—”

“Shh. You’re the softest thing I’ve ever put my hands on.”

He moved his hand to the front and cupped her. There was only so much advice he could remember, and so he let her body tell him what was good. A flick here, a press there—sometimes guided by her own hand or with direct instruction—and soon she was rolling her hips again and sighing against his jaw. He loved her textures: crinkly-soft hair and supple skin and lips plumped by his attentions. She was so slippery—maybe too slippery as his fingers explored her in leisure, and he found he was compensating with pressure. It got him wondering if this could bruise her.

“Tell me if I’m going too hard, okay? If anything feels wrong.”

“I love your hands. They’re big and hard—but you’re so gentle with me. And your fingers are so thick. Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about your hands on me, Ben Solo? Your fingers in me?”

It was _him_ supposedly pleasuring her, but her words—they were _just words_ —tugged at his cock. Just like that, the need to make her come was overriding everything else again.

“Let me—let me—”

He couldn’t even finish a sentence from how his neurons were tripping. Everything was centered on this single goal, and as she closed her eyes and melted against him, it seemed she was concentrating on getting there, too. He eased his fingers in, and after a bit of feeling around, the way they hooked into her and rocked in a steady rhythm finally felt right. Her moaning had switched into a hitching staccato, and with a few more tugs, she was stiffening again, coating his fingers with a fresh coat of moisture. He swallowed her little cries.

Before she even caught her breath, her words washed over him.

“I’m not coming another time without you inside me. Stop holding back for my sake.”

His heart tripped. As did his tongue.

“Okay. I just—it’s our first time. I wanted you to enjoy it.”

“I always enjoy it with you. You blow me away every single time—you know that.” She cupped his jaw hard in her hands and growled at him again. “But I need you to put your dick in me now.”

“Now?” he huffed.

“Please.”

“Okay.” His heart thundered. “Okay.”

It was easy when it was all for her. When he’d used his hands and his mouth. But now the disastrous what-ifs that involved his inexperienced dick were suddenly clamoring so loud inside his head. If he finished too fast—or if he took too long because of the condom—if the damn thing broke—

His nerves were all painfully awake, and he hated the tremor in his knees and his hand as he pulled open a drawer on his desk. Rey sat up, too, and peeked as he grabbed a foil packet. She bit her lip in a sudden shy silence as he pushed his pants off with zero finesse and tried tearing the packet open. Was he _wilting? Now?_

_Fuck._

He was too nervous. He was breathing hard and freezing up. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t take it.

But she knelt right in front of him, brushing the hair off his face and kissing him. His sweet girl. She wrapped one hand around his nape, and the other—

He twitched when her fingers brushed against him. There was also a tremor there, but a certainty, too, in how she gripped him. She worked her hand up and down his shaft slowly, and he found himself gasping against her mouth.

“You’re the most beautiful guy I’ve ever known, Ben. You don’t even know. When I’m with you… when you’re close to me, you—you make me feel like a girl. Soft and melty everywhere. I’ve never felt that with anyone else… just you.”

His mind was automatically parsing her words, and at this critical moment, it was easy to doubt. But this was _Rey_ , with her soft eyes that were always on him, and she would never lie to him. He was so aware that her every kiss was carefully planted on the many moles on his face, neck and chest. She felt the same way he did, and he should know it by now.

“When you look at me with your pretty eyes, you just—you just pull me into you.” Her breath hitched as she went on. “I can’t help myself when I’m with you.”

Her thumb slicked his precum around the head of his cock, and he almost told her to stop, that it was too much, but he held his breath and allowed the sensation to just wash over him. Allowed his girl to take care of him. Allowed himself to fully come alive because it was for her, too. She was so good to him.

He kissed her deep and moved her hand away so he could put the fucking condom on already. He thought it rolled on right—as it should, with how much he’d practiced over the last week or two, and there was no way he was going to fuck this up now. _No way_. The tightness of his jaw made it hard to speak, but it was okay. This was more than okay. He was about to truly make love to his Rey, and it was going to be so fucking special.

She was on her back again, and she held her limbs open for him. And so he slid into her cradle, right where he belonged, their arms around each other. And they met everywhere—skin and scent and warmth and breath. He rubbed his covered cock over her, and it was delicious friction, even with the physical barrier, and the feeling of her so wide open under him, the image that filled his head of her pussy lips parting for his cock, drenching him with her juices—it was so good, and it made him groan.

This was not a fantasy.

“Please, Ben—”

“Help me—”

There was no shame in begging, in helplessness, not when they were lost in each other, and as she used her fingers to guide him to her, he felt so fucking grateful that it was her, _his Rey_ , that he was lost with.

“Inside me—need all of you inside me— _ohh—!_ ”

And he pushed his flesh into her, and she welcomed him into her heat. _So fucking tight_. He couldn’t help his “I’m sorry” when she winced, and he didn’t know who was comforting who when their lips and tongues tangled. It felt like everything outside of them was frozen as he carefully pumped himself in and out of her, her limbs squeezing him every now and then as he got to know her from inside. His thighs and ass burned as he tried to keep it slow for her, and it felt like his entire body was one raw nerve—and hers was another wrapped so tightly around it.

“Big everywhere,” she suddenly said, and that _grin_ — “Hot everywhere. Good everywhere.”

He groaned, and he couldn’t help it—his hips drove into her, and he saw stars. She cried out.

“Feel so good,” he muttered.

He surged again—it was a losing battle.

“You won’t hurt me— _ohh_.”

They were rocking together now, and it was rough and sweet and _good_. Sounds were coming out of his throat that he couldn’t control. She was in his head and in his heart and in his lungs with every ragged breath that he took. And she was his dream, and she was solid and kissed so nice and her pussy squeezed him so good and she was here with him and not going anywhere—

“Rey—love you so much—”

And he was insensible to all but the frantic pounding of his hips into her and the pull that was strengthening at the base of his balls, like he was a rubber band about to be flicked free, and she was squeezing around him and crying out, little bursts in that voice he loved so much with every slam of his cock into her— _he made her come again_.

Just that was enough, and he poured himself out. It was like death in how it choked him and made his muscles stiff and his vision dark. But it passed, and he was gasping with her, and they burbled incoherently and shook together with life. There were tears in his eyes.

“Ben Solo—” she was hiccupping again, “—you love so good.”

Pure joy sprung from his heart and bubbled through his boneless body, and he bit her sweaty neck gently.

“Tell your subconscious,” he wheezed, “that that’s the real deal.”

 

*******


End file.
